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11. XIV., No. 14 . 


< Subscription Price, $5.00 
I Single Copies, 5 Cents 



VIARRIED OR SINGLE? 


BY 

B. M. CROKER 


Author of upland Barrington," ‘04 Fanilly Likeness" etc. 



Is-ueci Semi-Monthly. Entered at the Post-Office at New York as second-class matter. 

PP:teR FENELON collier, Publishek, 523 W. 13th St., N. Y. 



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MARRIED OR 
SINGLE? 


ns 


I'lS^ 


BY 

B. M. CROKER 

Vv 

Author of Diana Barrington , “-4 Family 
Likeness,'^ etc. 



/ 




IN TWO PARTS 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1895, by 
Fetur Funelon Collier, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington 




riARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER I 

THE PUPIL-TEACHER 


MRS. AND THE MISSES HARPER. 

SELECT ESTABLISHMENT 

FOR 

YOUNG LADIES. 

The above, engraved in bold characters on a 
highly -polished brass plate, may be read on the 
gate of an imposing mansion situated in the far- 
spreading suburbs of Riverside, one of the princi- 
pal mercantile towns in England. “Harperton’’ 
is a solid and secluded residence, standing in its 
own grounds (of two acres, one perch). It is 
planned to resemble a country house of some 
pretensions, but the symmetry of its proportions 
is spoiled by a long, low building jutting out at 
the side, that may be taken for anything from 
a stable to a billiard-room, but is, in fact, the 
scene of Mrs. Harper’s scholastic labors, erected 

(a) 


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MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


at her own cost — in other words, the schoolroom. 
This apartment is illuminated by six windows, 
the lower halves of which are, of coarse, of 
muffled glass. The floor is carpeted here and 
there, as it were, in squares or plots, and in the 
midst of each square there is a desk and a com- 
fortable cushioned chair. These indicate the 
localities of the various classes. The school- 
room walls are covered with maps, book cases, 
lists of rules and practicing hours, and lined with 
narrow desks and benches. A worn piano, a 
prim, white-faced clock, and a high wire fender 
comprise most of the furniture — ornamental and 
otherwise; unless we include the two young 
ladies who are sitting at one of the far desks, 
making the most of their time while the board- 
ers are out for their usual walk. One of these 
damsels has mendaciously pleaded earache in 
order to escape the hateful daily promenade. 
The other — that nondescript character, a pupil- 
teacher — is fulfilling a part of her duties, and 
diligently darning the ‘Tittle ones’ ” stockings, 
while her companion, with both elbows on the 
desk, and both hands in her ruffled hair, watches 
her and talks 

“This must be perfectly awful for you, Mad- 
die dear,” she was saying. “Don't you loathe 
it all, and wish you could run away? 1 should, 
if I were in your shoes.” 

“Run avray! What nonsense, Flo! Where 
could I run to, even supposing such an insane 
idea had entered my head, which it never has 
done? You forget that I have no friends in 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


5 


England ; and, after all, I am not such an object 
of pity as you seem to imagine,’’ darning stead- 
ily all the time. 

“If you are not, I should like to know who 
is!” demanded her schoolfellow, emphatically. 
“You are one day at the top of the tree, the head 
of the first class, the best pupil Herr Kroot ever 
had, adored by the Harpies” — here Miss Blewitt 
alluded to her respected instructress and daugh- 
ters— “always exquisitely dressed, with heaps of 
pocket-money, sleeping in the best room, allowed 
a fire in winter, every extra — claret and coffee — 
and I don’t know what! After years and years 
of this style of thing, and when you are seven- 
teen, and almost finished, your father suddenly 
stops supplies, you are not paid for for three 
whole terms, and the hateful Harpies make you 
into a regular drudge — a pupil-teacher, a nursery 
governess, a servant! You sleep in the attic 
with those odious little Smiths — wash, dress, and 
teach them ; you go messages to the shops, and 
even into Riverside — you, who were never al- 
lowed to stir one yard alone ; you mend and darn 
and teach.” 

She paused, not from lack of words, but from 
want of breath. 

“And a very good thing that I can do some- 
thing to pay for my living,” remarked the other, 
with composure. “If I could not sew and mend 
and teach, what would become of me, I should 
be glad to know? I could scarcely expect the 
Harpers to go on keeping me at their own ex- 
pense; and now I take the fifth class, the little 


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ones’ music, and I save a servant for those In- 
dian children, I work for my bread — and I am 
worth it.” 

‘‘I should rather think you were,” rejoined 
her listener, sarcastically. “You are worth a 
hundred a year to them as teacher, besides being 
dressmaker and nursery- maid. It makes me 
wild — I feel quite crazy— when I see all that 
they get out of you^ early and late, and the 
shameful way they treat you I Once upon a 
time you were ‘darling Madeline’ — their ‘dear, 
bright-faced girl, ’ their ‘model pupil,’ now you 
are ‘Madeline West,’ or ‘Miss West,’ and you 
are ‘slow,’ ‘awkward,’ ‘lazy,’ and ‘impertinent.’ 
Oh, dear me! dear me! sometimes I feel as if I 
should like to fly at Miss Selina and bite a piece 
out of her, I am so savage.” 

“I hope to goodness you will restrain your 
feelings,” said Madeline, with a smile, as she 
threaded a long needleful of black wool, and 
commenced on a gaping heel. “The Harpers 
are only human, after all! It was very hard on 
them, my father having failed; and all my 
music-lessons, and painting, and singing, and 
German, for two terms, had to be paid for out 
of their own pockets. Signor Squaletti charges 
half a guinea an hour. Then there were my 
clothes. I feel hot all over when I remember 
the quantity of money I laid out, believing that 
it would be all settled, as usual, by father’s 
check at Christmas. There was that white dress 
for the breaking-up party — ” 

“In which you made such an impression on 


MAKRIED OR SINGLE? 


7 


the Wolfertons’ friend, young Mr. Wynne,” in- 
terrupted Florence, with a meaning nudge. ‘‘Oh, 
yes, I remember the white dress!” 

“Don’t, Flo! Your elbow is like a knife,” ex- 
postulated her friend, with some discernible in- 
crease of color. “As to Mr. Wynne, what you 
say is nonsense, and you know Mrs. Harper for- 
bids us to speak of — of— such things.” 

“I know that Mrs. Harper was most uneasy 
in her mind when she saw him dancing four 
times with you running — yes, dance after dance 
— and she came up and introduced him to Julia 
Flowers’ two red-haired sisters, and said that 
gentlemen were so scarce, and her girls were not 
out^ and all that sort of rubbish; and she sent 
him down to supper with old Mrs. Browne, and 
she sent you to bed because you looked pale ! Oh, 
yes, I saw it all — all. I saw that Mr. Wynne 
never danced again, but stood with his back to 
the wall for the rest of the evening, looking as 
cross as two sticks. Very likely he would never 
have given you a thought, if you had not been 
so plainly and openly banished : absence makes 
the heart grow fonder! Mrs. Harper put the 
idea into his head by making such a stupid fuss 
— and she has only herself to thank. He sent 
you those flowers, he came to our church, and 
Miss Selina took it all to herself — the ridiculous 
old cat! As if he would look at her! She 
closed on the floAvers : much good may they do 
her !” 

“Now, Flo, how do you know that they were 
not for her?” asked her companion with a smile. 


8 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


“But, don’t let us talk about them. It is an old 
story.” 

“But I ivill talk about them,” persisted Flo, 
angrily. “I’ll talk about your nice green tailor- 
made, and your winter coat trimmed with fur, 
and your opera cloak, and your white dress — the 
white dress, which they took away from you !” 

“Well, they had paid for them, you see,” re- 
joined Madeline quietly. “I am glad they did 
take them — I owe them the less.” 

“Thank goodness your gloves and boots were 
too small,” continued Flo, in a tone of fervent 
congratulation, “otherwise they would have 
gone also. They are rather different from the 
Harpers’ chaussure, which is of the canal- boat 
type and size. Now I know what pedestrians 
mean when they talk of ‘covering’ miles of 
ground.” 

“Well, my dear excited Flo, they did not make 
their own feet,” said the other coolly. 

“How philosophical you are becoming! Quite 
an old head on young shoulders! Who made 
their tempers, I should be glad to know? — or 
their tongues? Thank goodness, this is my last 
half! Good-by to early rising, lectures, scold- 
ings, resurrection pies, milk and water* and rice 
puddings. Good-by to Harperton — penitentiary 
and prison. Good-by to Harpies, and hurrah 
for home!” — throwing, as she spoke, a dictionary 
up to the ceiling; failing to catch which, it fell 
open, face downward, with a bang. 

“That is May’s dictionary, Flo,” remonstrated 
the other. “You will not improve its poor back. ” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


9 


‘‘If you stay here long, Madeline, you will cer- 
tainly become just as preaching and particular 
as one of the Harpies themselves. You are tre- 
mendously. sobered as it is. Who would think, 
to look at you darning away so industriously? 
that this time last year you were the queen and 
moving spirit of the school; always getting up 
charades, dances, and concerts, and carrying 
your point on every question, and figuratively 
snapping your fingers at the Harpies if they in- 
terfered with your schemes — which, to do them 
justice, was very seldom! Ah! my poor Mad- 
die, since then what a change has come o’er the 
spirit of your dream ! It is terrible. If you had 
always been a pupil-teacher it would be another 
matter, or if you had gone to another school, 
where no one knew that you had fallen from 
your high estate; but here, the scene of your 
triumphs, to make the descent to the very foot 
of the ladder, is — is frightful. I often wonder 
how you can bear it so well.” 

“I often wonder too,” said Madeline shortly, 
winking her tears back with a great effort. “You 
are not going the best way to work to help me to 
endure my lot, Flo, raking up all these things. 
Bad or good, I must submit. I have no alter- 
native — nowhere to go, until my father comes 
home. The best thing I can do is to be patient, 
and try and repay the Harpers for some of the 
money they have expended on me.” 

“Repay them!” echoed Miss Blewitt, scorn- 
fully. “They made a very good thing out of 
you for nine years — large profits and quick re- 


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MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


turns. Now, although your father has not sent 
his usual remittance — is not that the word? — and 
they have heard that he is in business difficulties, 
yet I think they might have given you a little 
more law — a longer day. They might have ex- 
ercised some patience. You have not heard of 
your father for more than a year, have you?” 
she added bluntly. 

“No, not for sixteen months,” answered the 
pupil-teacher. 

“But even if he were dead,” proceeded Flo, 
with a fine disregard of her friend’s feelings, and 
an open defiance of the laws of good breeding, 
such as is occasionally to be found in girls of her 
age, “you could not honestly pretend to be very 
much cut up! You have not seen him since you 
were a small child. You left Australia when 
you were seven years old. He is a stranger to 
you.” 

“A stranger, certainly, in one way; but still 
he is my father, and I have a presentiment that 
we shall meet again, and before long,” rolling up 
a pair of stockings as she spoke, and averting 
her eyes from her outspoken schoolfellow. 

“Pooh! I don’t believe in presentiments. 1 
had a presentiment that father was going to give 
me a cart and cob last holidays, and it ended in 
smoke. If your father had been in the land of 
the living, surely you would have heard. I 
know I am saying this very baldly and plainly, 
but there is no use in beating about the bush — 
is there? You must face the position sooner or 
later.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


11 


‘‘You mean the position of being an orphan?’’ 
said Madeline, tremulously. “But I refuse to 
accept that until I have not one grain of hope 
left. It is easy for you, who have your father 
and mother and five brothers at home, to talk in 
this way. Remember, I have only one relation 
in the world, and when I lose him I lose all.” 

“Well, all I can say is, that I hope your pre- 
sentiment will turn out better than mine ! Oh, 
here are the girls coming back!” she exclaimed 
peevishly, as along file of figures appeared, pass- 
ing the windows two' and two. “What a bore 
they are ! They seem to have only been out a 
quarter of an hour, and here they come march- 
ing in, disturbing our nice comfortable little 
talk.” 

Florence Blewitt, who so successfully practiced 
the art of plain speaking and trampling on other 
people’s susceptibilities — people were welcome to 
trample on hers, she declared ; she had none — 
was a short, squarely-built girl of sixteen, with 
a sharp nose, thick brown hair, intelligent gray 
eyes, and a very dark skin — a skin that betrayed 
no soiipg07i of foreign blood, but was, neverthe- 
less, more brown than white. She was brusk, 
eccentric, clever, and indolent. Florence could 
— if she would — but she so seldom would. She 
preferred the ease of an undisturbed seat at the 
very bottom of the class to ambitious battlings 
and feverish strivings for the first place. She 
was the spoiled only daughter of a wealthy mer- 
chant and shipowner, and, being deferred to and 
made much of at home, was disposed to be both 


12 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


arbitrary and independent at school. Moreover, 
she was selfish, which is not a taking trait in a 
young woman’s character, and was anything 
but a popular idol. She would borrow readily, 
but hated to lend; and the only thing with which 
she was generous was her advice; the sole pres- 
ent she was ever known to make was her opinion 
— gratis. Few were honored by her liking, and 
if she had a friend at Harperton, it was the girl 
who sat beside her, conscientiously mending a 
basketful of most hopeless looking stockings. 

“I wonder what your fate will be, Maddie?’^ 
said Flo, staring at her meditatively, and study- 
ing her delicate profile, her penciled eyebrows, 
her shining hair. 

‘‘I wonder, too,” echoed Madeline, with a pro- 
found sigh. 

Madeline West had been born in Melbourne, 
and sent home at the age of seven to Mrs. Har- 
per’s establishment, where she had remained for 
ten years. From a skinny, elf-like, wildly ex- 
citable child, she had grownup into an extremely 
pretty girl, with what the drawing- mas ter termed 
“wonderful coloring.” Her hair, eyebrows, and 
lashes were dark, her eyes two shades lighter, 
but it was in her complexion and the exquisite 
modeling of her head and features that her chief 
beauty lay. Her head was small, and beauti- 
fully set upon her shoulders; her skin was of 
creamy fairness, with a faint shade of carmine in 
her cheeks— a color so delicate that it went and 
came at a look or word. She was tall, slight, 
and wonderfully graceful; full of vivacity, ac- 



MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


13 


tivity, versatility and resource, ready to throw 
herself warmly into any scheme for amusement 
or mischief — that was to say, twelve months 
previously. She was by far the most striking- 
looking and admired of Mrs. Harper’s forty 
boarders, and, notwithstanding this drawback to 
feminine good-will, was a great favorite with 
pupils, teachers, and servants. Her popularity 
had even survived that terrible test of altered 
circumstances — that dire fall from the wealthy 
Australian heiress to the unpaid slavey of the 
establishment. She changed, of course, her ring- 
ing laugh and her happy air; her merry repartee 
and snatches of songs had disappeared with the 
pretty frocks and hats and shoes which she had 
loved so well. She was developing a staid, 
grown-up manner, according to her fellow- 
pupils; she held back from their advances — ab- 
dicated of her own accord, and her place as queen 
of the school was filled, after a decent interreg- 
num, by a rich Cockney, who was as lavish of 
her shillings as she was frugal in the matter of 
h’s, and who, according to Flo Blewitt, was ‘‘a 
harmless, good-natured, vulgar, poor creature.” 

It must not be supposed that Madeline West 
did not keenly feel her altered position. Many a 
bitter tear she shed in secret; many a sleepless 
hour she lay awake, when all her comiianions — 
with only to-morrow’s lessons on their minds — 
were slumbering peacefully in the arms of Mor- 
pheus. Es^ery small indignity, every slighting 
speech and sharp glance entered as an iron into 
her soul, but she made no remonstrance or reply; 


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MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


her swiftly changing color was the sole index to 
her feelings, and what were a school-girl’s — a 
pauper school-girl’s — feelings to Mrs. Harper? 
To tell the truth, Madeline had never asserted 
herself even in her days of sunshine. She never 
could face an unpleasant situation; she put aside 
a crisis with a laugh or a gay word ; her sensi 
tive, luxurious nature shrank instinctively from 
all unpleasant things. She was a moral coward, 
though no one suspected it. 

The present clouds on her sky had brought out, 
in an unexpected manner, unexpected depths in 
her character. Madeline, the humble semi-nurse- 
maid, was an industrious, prudent, self-possessed 
person, who labored gravely, doggedly, from 
morning to night, a totally different girl to the 
extravagant, generous, easy-going Madeline, the 
butterfly who had fluttered the happy hours away 
for nine whole years. She was now at another 
seminary. Adversity is said to be an excellent, 
school, and offers a fine test of character. Anom- 
alous as it sounds, Madeline West had 7'isen to 
the state of life into which she had fallen. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


15 


CHAPTER II 

NO NEWS 

Three months had passed, and still no sign or 
token from Mr. Robert West. How anxiously 
his daughter’s eyes followed Miss Selina’s skinny 
fingers, as they dealt out the letters every morn- 
ing during breakfast time — these letters having 
previously been thoroughly turned over, exam- 
ined, felt, and even smelled^ by that lady and 
her relatives. It was always the same in answer 
to Madeline’s unspoken appeal. ‘‘No, nothing 
for you, Madeline,” or, “No letter yet. Miss 
West,” according to the frame of mind in which 
Miss Selina found herself. And then Mrs. 
Harper, who was seated behind an immense 
copper tea apparatus, would peer round it, with 
her keen little eyes and bobbing gray curls, and 
shake her head at the pupil-teacher, in a manner 
which signified that she did not approve of her 
at all ! As if poor Madeline was not sick with 
hope deferred, and wild with a frenzied desire to 
get away and never pass another night under 
that lady’s roof-tree; only there was one big hiity 


16 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


one immense drawback to her own most eager 
wishes, she had nowhere else to go. 

The Misses Harper, who were fully alive to 
Madeline’s value, were by no means equally anx- 
ious for her departure. She corrected exercises, 
ruled copy-books, relieved them of several dis- 
tasteful duties, and took the little ones’ music — an 
agonizing ordeal. She really did as much as any 
two paid teachers, and — an ecstatic fact — for 
nothing! Moreover, they had the delicious sen- 
sation that they were performing a charitable 
action all the time, and looked primly self-con- 
scious and benevolent when their friends ex- 
claimed: “How good of you, you dear, kind, 
Christian. people, to keep that unfortunate Aus- 
tralian girl !” 

Miss Selina, who was forty, with a complex- 
ion like that of a wax doll who has been left ly- 
ing in the sun, would sigh softly and murmur 
the word “duty,” when perhaps at that very 
moment the unfortunate Australian was fulfill- 
ing the least agreeable of hers — putting those 
fretful, ungovernable, sickly little Anglo-Indians 
to bed — and to sleep. 

They were too young for school routine ; 
spoiled, fractious, disobedient, and mischievous, 
they were Madeline’s almost entire charge. 
Happy Madeline! 

It is winter when we once more enter the 
schoolroom at Harperton, a bitterly cold day, 
and the small fire behind the wire screen does 
not half heat that great bare apartment, with its 
numerous doors and window^s. Those at a dis- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


17 


tance are ‘‘out in the cold’' indeed; for a double 
file of girls is gathered closely round the fender, 
talking four at a time, and making noise enough 
for a rookery. This is the half-hour after tea, 
and exclusively their own; they are indemnify- 
ing themselves for many hours of silence and 
French— which almost amounts to the same 
thing. Their speech is vigorous and unpolished, 
for no teacher is present except Madeline — if 
teacher she can be called. She is standing at a 
remote desk, mounting a drawing by the light of 
a cheap little hand-lamp. The gas is never 
turned on in the schoolroom until half -past six, 
because the twilight is so delightful (so economi- 
cal they meant), quoth the thrifty Misses Harper. 

The coals, which have been angrily stirred up, 
throw a good blaze, and reveal the faces and fig- 
ures of the fire-worshipers assembled round the 
screen, especially the face and figure of Isabella 
Jones, the present reigning potentate. She has 
hitched herself up on the edge of the fire-guard, 
holding on there by the mantel- piece, and from 
this elevated position is dispensing law, wit, 
snubs, and patronage. She is very tall and thin, 
stoops a good deal, and is the proprietor of a tip- 
tilted nose, a pair of quick little brown e^^es, and 
millions of freckles. She is also the proprietor 
of a quantity of pretty dresses, of unlimited 
pocket-money, a vast amount of self-esteem, and 
the largest and reddest hands in the room 

Mrs. Harper’s seminary is only intended for 
the offspring of wealthy folk. Izzie’s father has 
made his pile in margarine, and has desired that 


18 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


his daughter may have the best of everything — 
every accomplishment, every extra, just like a 
duchess. Izzie has, accordingly, a separate bed- 
room, and lessons from the most expensive mas- 
ters; nevertheless, she is far— oh! very far — from 
being like a duchess. Her education was begun 
too late; she is naturally dull. 

“Isay, girls,’’ she is screaming sociably, “isn’t 
it grand to think that in ten days more we shall 
all be at ’ome? 

“ ‘ This day fortnight, where shall I be? 

, Not in this academee, 

Eating scrape and drinking tea. 

This day fortnight, where shall I be?’ ” 

She chanted in a sing-song voice, more or less 
through her nose. 

“And there is the breaking-up dance,” put in 
one of her satellites; “I don’t want to go home 
till that is over.” 

“Gracious! I should hope not. What fun it 
will be,” exclaimed Miss Jones. “I hope there 
will be lots of men this time. I ’inted as much 
to Miss Selina. What is the use of going to the 
expense of supper, and us all getting new dresses, 
just for the day boarders? That’s what 1 say.” 

“What good, indeed!” put in Flo, sarcastic- 
ally, as she elbowed her way to the very middle 
of the fire. “But pray do not make yourselves 
unhappy about the expense of the supper, my 
dear young friends. It will not concern us. I 
heard Mrs. Harper telling mademoiselle that they 
did not intend to have the girls in on this occa- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


]9 


sion, gobbling up the ices and confectionery like 
so many locusts.’’ 

‘‘I did not know that locusts went in for con- 
fectionery,” remarked Isabella, with a sniff of 
scorn. 

‘‘This marvelous discovery in natural history 
was Mrs. Harper’s, not mine,” said Flo, with 
swelling dignity. “However, the meaning is 
plain. We are not to sup. We are to ’ave” — 
mimicking her schoolfellow*— “buns and egg- 
sandwiches ’anded round in tlxe schoolroom, 
while the company are carousing downstairs.” 

The “take-off” was entirely lost on Isabella^ 
who was far too much impressed with the intel- 
ligence to be alive to Flo’s impertinence. A dead 
silence followed this disagreeable announcement, 
which was at length broken by Miss Jones, who, 
sliding from the top of the screen in the excite- 
ment of the moment, shrilly exclaimed : 

“Well, I declare! I won’t stand it! I shall 
tell Mrs. H. so to her face. Why, our parents 
pay for the supper! Locusts, indeed! My 
father pays handsomely for extras and everj^- 
thing, breaking-up party and all; and to be put 
off wdth a bun! I think I see myself — I just do! 
Why” — warming with her theme — “supper is 
’alf the fun! There are the crackers and mot- 
toes and jokes, and every one taken down by a 
gentleman, arm-in-arm. I’ll go to supper for 
one, and stay up to the last. I did not get my 
new pink dress just to dance with girls, and eat 
an egg sandwich and go to bed. Rather not. 
Leave it to me, girls” — looking round on her 


20 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


companions with an air of friendly encourage- 
ment — ‘‘I shall have a word with Miss Selina. 
We shall all go to supper, or Isabella Jones 
will know the reason why.” 

‘‘Oh, you dear, good Izzy!” cried two voices 
simultaneously. And one continued, “You know 
you can do anything with Snappy, and if you 
ask, it will be all right. But about partners, I 
am afraid they will be few and far between; 
Snappy and Miss Harper keep the best for them- 
selves and their friends. Anything is good 
enough for the girls. Last time I was thankful 
to dance all night with a little boy in a jacket; 
however, it was a shade better than sitting- 
out.” 

“There are the Wolfertons,” observed Flo, 
“and they generally bring two or three men. 
Last year there was Mr. Wynne, who was tre- 
mendously struck with Madeline. ’ ’ Then rais- 
ing her voice, “Maddie, do you remember Mr. 
W ynne? Come over here, and let us see if you 
are blushing.” 

“Mr. Wynne, Fred Wolferton’s friend !” cried 
Isabella, with great animation. “He is a barris- 
ter, and, of course, without a penny to jingle on 
a milestone — poor as Job. My father don’t ap- 
prove of my getting to know these paupers. 
You know I’m an heiress” — giggling— “and 
father says — ” 

“Oh, never mind your father!” broke in Flo, 
rudely. “You need not be alarmed; Mr. Wynne 
won’t look at you as long as Madeline is in the 
room — and perhaps he may not come. Who else 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


21 


are invited — the Sangsters, the Wallers, the 
Rays?” 

“All common sort of people,” remarked the 
granddaughter of a baron. “Very worthy in 
their ivay^ and well enough for a girls’ school 
breaking up; but I should not dream of knowing 
them at home, or of bowing if I met them any- 
where;” and she threw up her chin, and looked 
about her superciliously. 

No one combated this dire announcement; they 
were all a little in awe of Miss De Ville and her 
ancestors — especially of the one who had fought 
in Palestine — and they were silent and impressed, 
being young. At length a word was whispered, 
which quickly set every tongue wagging. That 
magic word was “dress.” What were they all 
going to wear? One lacked new shoes, another 
gloves; a fan was lent — in prospect — in return 
for good offices in the hair-dressing line. Amid 
this gabble Isabella’s piercing voice was heard 
high and shrill above all, describing the body of 
her new pink dress. Madeline had joined the 
crowd, looking white and cold — and no wonder. 

“Keep away your fingers, my dear, if they are 
sticky,” said Flo; “and, by the way, what are 
you going to adorn yourself in? Your white 
dress was taken by the Harpies, as most unsuit- 
able to you now. ” 

“I have nothing but my black cashmere,” she 
returned, “and this” — holding out a shabby serge 
sleeve. 

“They really must give you something !” cried 
Isabella, impressively, “if only for the look of 


22 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


the thing. For the credit of the establishment, 
they can’t have you appear like an old rag- 
picker.” Madeline colored vividly. ‘‘I don’t 
mind giving you a dress myself, if you will take 
it.” 

“Now, I call that a French compliment, Isa- 
bella Jones,’’ remarked Flo, with her usual can- 
dor, “and you know it. If Madeline has to wear 
the old black, so much the worse; but, whatever 
she wears, she will always look a — Zad^/,” ac- 
companying the remark with a glance at Miss 
Jones that gave it point and significance, and 
made that young person feel that it would be a 
pleasure to take the big ink-bottle off the chim- 
ne3’’-piece and fling it at Florence Blewitt’s solid, 
square-looking head. 

“You need not trouble about my dress, Flo^ 
nor need I,” said Madeline, trying to find room 
on the top of the screen for her benumbed fin- 
gers. “Miss Selina told me this morning to prac- 
tice up my dance music. I am to plaj’ — ” 

“Oh, what a shame!” chorused half-a-dozen 
voices. “Saving the usual piano-plaj^er, and a 
guinea — the skinflints!” 

But human nature is human nature, and not a 
few of these fair creatures felt a conviction that 
Madeline and her prett}^ face were best at the 
piano — turned toward the wall — and that it was 
only fair to give others a chance, meaning their 
sweet, unsophisticated selves. They had a very 
distinct vision of the benefit that would accrue to 
them as a result of this economical arrangement 
on the part of the Harpers. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


23 


‘‘But what will Mr. Wynne do?” inquire(J 
Miss De Ville, with the corners of her mouth 
drawn down. 

She was a tall, pale, sandy-haired girl, with 
white lashes and a scornful countenance. Mad- 
eline’s eyes flashed. She was on the point of an- 
swering, but the words were taken out of her 
mouth by Flo, who replied : 

“He will dance with you instead, my dear.” 

“You know we are not allowed to talk about 
gentlemen,” put in a prim girl, with very prom- 
inent teeth and a painfully stiff white collar. 

“Bosh!” exclaimed Isabella. “I’ll talk of 
whom I please, from the old gentleman upward. 
I’ll talk of Mr. Wynne, Mr. Wolferton, Mr. 
Lancy, Mr. Sangster, Mr. Summers, Mr. Fer- 
raby, Mr. Armstrong — ” 

‘‘Young ladiesP" said an awful voice that 
made them all start, and fall away from the 
fender like a flock of frightened sheep. “ What 
vulgarity is this? How often have I told you 
that I highly disapprove of such conversation! 
It will come to this, I see” — looking severely 
around — “you will have no half-hour after tea if 
you cannot be trusted. I am exceedingly dis- 
pleased and shocked, especially” — seizing on her 
scapegoat — “with you, Madeline West. You 
are old enough to know better, and to have some 
influence; and to find you in the very middle of 
all this unladylike chatter, discussing gentlemen, 
is really too odious. A girl in your position might 
have a little decency and self-respect. I am ex- 
tremely disgusted with you. Now go; it is quite 


24 MARRIED OR SINGLE? 

time the little Smiths were in bed. How is it 
that you have always to be reminded of your 
duties?’’ she concluded venomously. 

Madeline opened her mouth to speak. 

‘‘No answer; you know the rule. Now, young 
ladies, light the gas, and get to your work.” 

A great commotion and bustle ensued. Exit 
Madeline, trying vainly to keep back her tears, 
and with a burning sense of injustice in her 
breast. Indeed, for once, she forgot herself, and 
slammed the door — not violently, but still with a 
decided touch of temper. It was a foolish im- 
pulse, foolishly indulged. 

She was called back, and imperatively desired 
to “remember who she was, and to walk out of 
the room quietly, and close the door after her in 
a ladylike and becoming manner.” 

So even this slight safety-valve for her feelings 
was denied to her, and she left the apartment for 
a second time completely crushed. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


25 


CHAPTER III 

THE BREAKING-UP DANCE 

The great day of breaking-up dawned at last. 
What preparations were made ! A cartload of 
hired chairs for the company was the first ar- 
rival ; then a consignment of glass and crockery, 
baskets of hot-house fiowers from the friends of 
wealthy pupils, and finally, in a confectioner’s 
van — the supper! Mrs. Harper, her cap askew, 
her curls bristling, was nearly crazy with excite- 
ment and fuss. The Misses Harper were busy, 
important, and dangerous to accost. The girls, 
from an early tea, had retired upstairs to indulge 
in the next best amusement to dancing — dress- 
ing. Oh, with what leisurely enjoyment were 
heads tired, white dresses donned, and gloves 
drawn on! How often was the following artful 
query put with an artless air: 

“You are looking awfully nice, dear! Now, 
tell me candidl}^, what do you think of me?'^ 

Madeline had no trouble with her toilet. The 
black high-necked day-gown, with a white fichu 
and lace ruffles, was all the embellishment within 


26 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


her power; but she was in much request, and 
very busy dressing and decorating her more fort- 
unate schoolfellows. The.bell rang. Down they 
all trooped, conscious, conceited, coquettish, or 
careless, and filed past Miss Selina, who held a 
full-dress inspection in the hall — Miss Selina, 
whose face was flushed to the hue of her new 
crimson silk, flushed to a shade that set pearl 
jiowder at defiance, and scorned the application 
of Rowland’s Kalydor. The young ladies passed 
muster creditably — with some few exceptions, 
such as ‘‘Minnie, your dress is too short;” 
“Fanny, those flowers are frightful!” “Joce- 
lyn, where did you get such horrible gloves?” 
The bevy of fair creatures passed into the school- 
room, where, on a raised platform, were seats for 
the chorus, two pianos, a harmonium — in short, 
all the preparations for a concert, the one draw- 
back to the young ladies’ absolute felicity — that 
is to say, those young ladies who were compelled 
to perform, and who now awaited the audience 
in a kind* of cold shiver, with clammy hands and 
quickly pulsing hearts. Presently Herr Kroot 
arrived in elaborate evening dress, frilled shirt, 
white gloves, and an immense accession of dig- 
nity, and talked and scolded, commanded and 
encouraged, his miserable pupils. Much as they 
dreaded the audience, they were trebly afraid of 
him, and dared not break down with his eye upon 
them, his hand turning over the leayes, his low 
“counting” in their ears. The large room filled 
soon, and filled fast, with day boarders, their 
friends, parents, a few outsiders, and the Misses 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


27 


Harper’s own circle — chiefly clerical. There was 
quite a notable sprinkling of the sterner sex, for 
Mrs. Harper’s establishment was reported to in- 
clude some beauties. Very nice, indeed, the 
young people looked from the body of the con- 
cert hall, so young and fresh and fair in their 
simple white dresses, with their downcast eyes — 
that noted everything all the same. Among 
other facts, they noted the arrival of all the Wol- 
fertons and Mr. Wynne, whose presence on the 
occasion Miss Selina attributed solely to her own 
attractions. She was fourteen years older than 
him, but what of that? He was old for his age, 
and she was young for hers. She flattered her- 
self that in a becoming dress, by lamplight, or 
behind a spotted veil, she did not look a day 
more than s even-and-twenty. By all accounts 
Mr. Wynne was a briefless barrister (but then 
Selina’s share of the family stocking was by no 
means contemptible), he had the reputation of 
being clever, and would ‘‘get on” of course. 
The Wolfertons declared that he was highly 
thought of as a rising man, and of fine old fam- 
ily — but poor. Strange that he should come to 
the breaking-up this year, too— “made quite a 
point of it,” Amy Wolferton had whispered, and 
Amy had looked as if she would have liked to 
have added more. 

As he pressed her hand, and she glanced at 
him from under her scanty eyelashes, a delicious 
conviction assured Miss Selina that he had not 
forgotten her — their charming walk from church, 
or the little picnic party, at which he had sat be- 


28 MARRIED OR SINGLE? 

side her, and when the second supply of plates 
had failed, and with regard to the remains of 
some cold chicken, said in the most marked man- 
ner, “Miss Selina, will you permit me to lay my 
bones beside yours?” What was this but a pro- 
posal? Certainly in a novel form, unquestion- 
ably it meant that they would share the same 
grave. It was a distinct invitation to the family 
vault of the blue-blooded Wynnes. How agree- 
able he was — these barristers always were ! How 
good-looking ! What a contrast to Mr. Murphy, 
the red-haired Irish curate, on whom, with his 
loud, rich brogue, her sister Letitia had built her 
hopes matrimonial (N.B. and it had been building 
on a quicksand), casting a contemptuous glance 
at the well-oiled red head to her left. 

These complacent reflections were chasing each 
other through the good lady’s brain as she sat in 
the attitude of solicitous attention during the 
opening cantata. A. shrewd, keen, calculating 
woman with regard to every-day matters, such 
as school accounts, butchers’ bills, extras, and 
^vith a lynx eye for the failings and shortcomings 
of her flock, but where vanity whispered, and a 
possible (or impossible) husband loomed on her 
horizon. Miss Selina was a completely different 
character, and an absolute fool, as giddy, as 
credulous, as feather-headed as any of the young 
ladies meekly facing her behind these sheets of 
music — nay, worse, for has not every one heard 
the proverb — “There is no fool like an old one?” 
Far-seeing, crafty girls were clever enough to 
discover Miss Selina’s weak side, and to use their 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


29 


discovery to their own advantage. They plied 
her with compliments, ludicrously inappropriate. 
They called her “their own beautiful Miss Selina,” 
hinted that she had only to come, to be seen, and 
to conquer, etc. ; the result being that these wise 
young virgins were frequently invited to tea in 
the drawing-room, to supper in Mrs. Harper’s 
own private refectory, were taken to concerts, 
were “let off” on various occasions, and laughed 
at “Old Selina” (or Snappy) in their sleeve; 
called her a ridiculous goose, as ugly as sin, and 
as vain as a peacock. 

It is necessary to reveal the younger Miss 
Harper in her true colors in order to explain how 
a woman in her position could imagine for a mo- 
ment that a young man would fall in love with 
her elderly charms, in spite of the overwhelming 
advantages possessed by at least twenty young 
rivals — her own pupils. She had long regarded 
the girls en masse as her natural enemies, not 
as pretty creatures of from sixteen to eighteen 
years of age, with bright eyes, brilliant com- 
plexions, and angelic dispositions! She ticketed 
them in her own mind as disagreeable female 
children, with loud voices, voracious appetites, 
and sly ways. Nevertheless, she was reluctantly 
aware that Madeline could be no longer consid- 
ered a child, that some people considered her ap- 
pearance pleasing! She stared hard at her now, 
where her black dress made a sort of blot among 
the snowy gowns of the first trebles. What a 
color! was she rouged? She looked just like a 
doll. Doll or no doll. Miss Selina made a men- 


30 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


tal note that she should not be of the happy band 
who were going into supper. She might be get- 
ting ideas into her mind — foolish ideas. People 
perhaps would notice her, as they had done last 
year, and turn her giddy head. The cantata 
came to a satisfactory conclusion. A fierce, 
tempestuous bravura, performed with desperate 
energy by a long- fingered young lady, succeeded 
it. ' Poor girl! she was trembling with terror as 
she sat down. What with the audience before 
her, and Herr Kroot behind her, she occupied 
the proverbial situation of being between the 
devil and the deep sea, and played with a cour- 
age that was absolutely reckless. 

The bravura was followed by a duet, the duet 
by a violin solo, then one or two songs. With 
regard to the last of these, the miserable per- 
former found her feelings quite too overpower- 
ing, and after some gurgling in the throat, and 
sniffing in her handkerchief, she collapsed into 
floods of tears, and was briskly hustled into the 
background and hidden behind the others, vrhile, 
at a moment’s notice, Madeline West was com- 
manded to take her place and step into the gap. 

Poor Madeline! It had not been intended that 
she should perform. She had no friends among 
the audience; no complacent relations to clap 
their hands and look proud and important. When 
the last words of “A Finland Love Song” had 
died away in silence — a silence caused by surprise 
and emotion — there was a pause of a full minute, 
and then a tremendous hurricane of applause 
burst forth. Ladies winked away unaccustomed 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 31 

tears, and clapped in a manner that was trying 
to their new ten-button gloves; their hearts were 
moved for the moment; some chord had been 
touched by that fresh young voice, by those 
sympathetic words, a chord that vibrated, and 
woke up old memories of the days when they 
were young — those days so sad, so sweet, that 
were no more. 

The men encored tumultuously, not only be- 
cause the singer had a lovely voice, and sang 
from her very heart, but — oh, well, because men 
will be men, and because the girl in black was 
uncommonly pretty. “Auld Robin Gray’^ was 
vociferously commanded, but the fair vocalist 
was adamant; she only curtseyed timidly, and 
curtseyed again. No one but herself had seen 
Miss Selina’s emphatic shake of the head, as she 
met her cold gray eye in that ‘Tittle look across 
the crowd.” No, there was to be no encore. 

After the concert, the room was cleared for 
dancing, and Madeline took up her post at the 
best (the drawing-room) piano and played first 
a set of lancers, to set every one going, and to 
polish off the dowagers and duty dances, and 
then a waltz— and yet another waltz. It was 
very dull work for her. She was placed with 
her back to the company, and could neither see 
nor be seen — which was precisely what Miss 
Selina had intended; but the pretty singer was 
not to be so easily concealed. More than one 
would-be partner vainly begged for an introduc- 
tion. More than one crafty young man pleaded 
fatigue^ and halted long in the neighborhood of 


32 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


the piano, where he could obtain a good view of 
the charming pianiste. After the third waltz, 
played* by Madeline’s weary fingers, Mr. Wynne 
approached, and said, as she stood up selecting 
the next piece on the programme — 

‘‘Miss West, we have all to thank you for your 
capital playing,” holding out his hand as he 
spoke. “And now I hope you will give me the 
pleasure of this dance?” She touched his hand 
timidly, and shook her head. “Oh! I beg your 
pardon!” he exclaimed, with a quick glance at 
her black dress. “Let me, at least, take you to 
the tea-room. You must want some refreshment 
after your exertions.” 

“No, thank you very. much,” she answered, 
once more seating herself at the instrument. “I 
have had my tea!” 

“You don’t mean to say that you are going to 
play again?” he asked, in a tone of indignant 
astonishment. 

“Yes, I am going to play all the evening,” she 
replied, turning over the leaves and finding the 
place, with a considerably heightened color. 

“But last year you danced all the evening. 
What does it mean?” 

“It means, Mr. Wynne, that I was then one 
of the boarders; now, I am only a pupil-teacher. 
Circumstances are changed; it is my duty to 
play — and,” faltering slightly, “I like it.” 

“I find it difficult to believe that, Miss West,” 
he exclaimed; “bat I suppose I must endeavor 
to do so. Will you permit me to turn over the 
leaves?” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


33 


‘‘No, no!” she protested eagerly; “on no ac- 
count. You must dance. ” 

“ ‘Je n’en vois pas la necessite,’ ” he quoted, 
seating himself deliberately as he spoke. “I am 
afraid you have lost a relative,” he continued, in 
a lower voice. “Your father?” 

“I have in one sense,” now striking up another 
waltz. “My father has not been heard of for a 
whole year and a half. When last he wrote he 
had lost a great deal of money. He was always 
a speculator. He has never written since — ” 
She paused expressively. 

“And have you no friend or relation in this 
country?” 

“No, none that I have any claim upon. I 
have been at school here since I was seven years 
old.” 

“And, good heavens! you don’t mean to tell 
me that you have no resource but to remain on 
here as pupil-teacher?” 

“No other. You see I have no home in this 
country. I had one long ago in Melbourne — the 
only one I ever knew.” 

“Do you remember it?” he asked rather ab- 
stractedly. 

“Yes, I remember the big white house and 
the bright, sunny climate.” 

“Has your father never come home to see you 
all these years?” 

“Never! I’m afraid — I’m afraid — ” She 
paused, unable to articulate, but her lingers still 
played steadily on. 

afraid,” he said in a low voice, bending 


34 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


forward, “that you are not happy here,” con- 
trasting rapidly in his own mind the brilliant 
figure she had made last year, as the belle of the 
evening, the cynosure of all eyes, to what she 
now appeared, the poor piano-playing drudge, 
not so much as rewarded with a “thank you,” 
and dressed in a gown that even he could see 
was shabby and old-fashioned. 

“Oh, Mr. Wynne!” said a sprightly staccato 
voice at his elbow. “Oh! you naughty man! 
Why are you not dancing? Come away; I can- 
not have you distracting Miss West’s attention, 
you dreadful person! We are going to have an- 
other set of lancers, and you shall be my 
partner.” 

With this heavy bribe, he was summarily de- 
tached from his post by the piano, and carried 
off by the triumphant Miss Selina (swearing to 
himself, despite a smiling countenance). Made- 
line played and played, until she felt that her 
fingers had no feeling, and were just as stiff and 
mechanical as the teeth in a m\;isical-box. At 
length supper released her. She stood up, half 
expectant, as the others flocked past two and two, 
each happy girl provided with a cavalier — beam- 
ing, giggling, blushing, as the case might be! 
While she waited, a bony, much-beringed hand 
was laid heavily upon her shoulder, and she be- 
held Miss Selina, who had arrested Mr. AVynne. 

“Madeline, my dear,” she whispered, “I am 
sorry there is no room for you. I’ll send you 
out a sandwich, or something.” And then she 
passed on, leaving poor Madeline alone in that 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


35 


big empty room, with a lump in her throat and 
tears in her eyes. 

Miss West was occasionally foolish enough to 
cut off her nose to spite her face, and she indig- 
nantly declined the subsequent sandwich brought 
in on a plate by the sympathetic parlor-maid, who 
vowed ^‘it was a shame,” but met with no en- 
coui’agement to relieve her mind further on the 
subject. 

Madeline kneW that she dared not go to bed. 
She had still to play — “it was in the bond.” So 
she had not even that small comfort ; nor might 
she, as yet, indulge herself in the further luxury 
of a thoroughly good cry. 

“What a difference money makes!” she said 
to herself bitterly. “What a contrast between 
this night and last year! Who would have be- 
lieved — I, least of all — that that night twelve 
months I should be sitting here alone? How- 
ever, I don’t suppose,” she added, half aloud, 
with a catch in her voice, “that any one misses 
me.” 

In this supposition she was wrong. Many 
people missed the girl in black, who had sung 
the song of the concert, who had played unre- 
mittingly all the evening, and who had such a 
shabby dress, and such a swoetl}^ pretty face! 

Not a few of Mrs. Harper's guests, who were 
eating her good things and sipping her cham- 
pagne, were registering a black mark against her 
all the same, and thinking that they would be 
sorry if any friend of theirs had to fill the post 
of her present “pupil-teacher.” 


36 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Mr. Wynne dissembled — as they used to say 
in good old melodramas — and was most agree- 
able to his partner, Miss Selina, but inwardly he 
was raging. With professional cleverness he 
drew her out, and cross-examined her with re- 
gard to Miss West, and she — her tongue unloos- 
ened by two glasses of champagne, her vanity 
stimulated by his attentions (to her plate) — was 
completely off her guard, and as easily turned 
inside-out as any quaking witness at the Old 
Bailey. 

She expounded eloquently on Mr. West’s enor- 
mities, the vast sums expended on his daughter, 
the fact that “but for them she would be friend- 
less and homeless — probably begging from door 
to door. The wretched swindler was dead, the 
girl had no relatives or friends, and only for 
their charity — ” Here she paused impressively, 
expecting Mr. Wynne to fill up the blank, with 
some neat and appropriate speech ; but, for once, 
she was doomed to disappointment. 

“Only for your charity she would be a govern- 
ess, would she not?” he remarked carelessly. 
“With such musical talents she is sure of a lu- 
crative situation — a hundred or so a year. But, 
of course, under your roof she has all that she 
can wish for — a happy home, among her old 
companions — and any one can see with half an 
eye that Mrs. Harper is a mother to her,” he 
concluded with immovable features 

Miss Selina started and became of a yet richer 
shade of crimson. This idea of a governess, at 
one hundred pounds a year, was something en- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


37 


tirely novel. The girl was clever and accom- 
plished! Was Mr. Wynne speaking ironically, 
when he alluded to a mother’s care and a happy 
home? Impossible! his face was as unmoved, 
his eyes as smiling, his manner as sociable and 
friendly as usual. It was a wild, foolish idea, 
and she immediately dismissed it from her mind, 
and plunged into a discussion on platonic friend- 
ships — and a second helping of a most excellent 
truffle. 

Mr. Wynne managed to have a few words 
with Mrs. Wolf er ton after supper. He stated 
his case concisely, pointed oat Miss West, and 
strongly commended her to the kind lady’s no- 
tice. Mrs. Wolferton was the mother of Fred 
(Mr. Wynne’s schoolfellow, college friend, and 
chum), and was very fond of Laurence, whom 
she had known from the time when he was 
an audacious boy in jacket upward. As she 
listened to the sorry history of pretty Miss 
West, her motherly heart was touched, and 
she immediately begged to be introduced to 
her. 

‘‘Remembered her well,” she declared, “from 
last year. Hoped she would come and see her 
during the holidays.” And, finally, being a 
woman who believed in deeds as well as loorcls^ 
took off her gloves, removed a jingling bracelet, 
and seated herself at the piano for the remainder 
of the night, in spite of Mrs. Harper’s horrified 
face and excited expostulations, saying pleasantly 
to Madeline, “Now, my dear, my dancing days 
are over; yours are just beginning. Go and 


38 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


dauce, Laurence; Miss West has not danced a 
step this evening.” 

The hint was superfluous. Already Laurence 
and Miss West were at the other end of the room, 
and already a very portentous frown had settled 
deep on Miss Selina’s brow; but it availed noth- 
ing. The two offenders were dauntless. 

Mr. Wynne was a capital partner. He intro- 
duced Madeline to various others, who voted the 
girl in black quite the prettiest they had seen 
for months, and who were the more eager to 
make her acquaintance, and to dance with her, 
from seeing that their attentions were palpably 
displeasing to the Harper family. Madeline 
danced until the end of the evening, although 
Miss Selina had hissed into her ear, as she stood 
near her, “You are a bold, pushing, unladylike 
girl.” 

She knew she would have to pay dearly for 
these present delights on the morrow, and was 
resolved to drain the cup of pleasure — yes, to the 
very dregs! She looked supremely lovely, if 
slightly defiant; the exercise of dancing had 
made her eyes brighter, her color deeper. Mi\ 
Wynne told himself that she was the prettiest — 
ay, and the nicest — girl he had ever met in the 
whole course of his life; but he must not lose his 
head — no, a briefless barrister could not afford to 
fall in love with a penniless pupil-teacher! 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


39 


CHAPTER IV 

THE LAST TRAIN 

The holidays commenced. . The young ladies 
went north, south, east, and west, to their several 
homes, and Madeline had the whole big school- 
room, and the much-disputed fire, absolutely to 
herself. She was monarch of all she surveyed, 
but she was nearly as lonely as Robinson Crusoe 
on the desert island. The Misses Harper were 
not covetous of her company ; nor was she ever 
bidden to the friendly luncheons or the merry 
little suppers which repeatedly took place. She, 
on these occasions, enjoyed (?) a plate of cold 
meat, or bread and butter, and a glass of water 
in the privacy of the schoolroom. There was no 
necessity, the Misses Harper avered, to intro- 
duce her to their friends. It would be a mistake 
to spoil her; she was quite conceited enough. 
But Mrs. Wolferton had no such scruples; she 
called, she wrote, she persevered, she carried her 
point. She insisted on having Miss West to 
spend an occasional day witt her. What a con- 
trast to the schoolroom at Harpertoii House that 


40 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


dainty drawing-room, with its mirrors, pictures, 
easy-chairs, Persian carpets, exotic flowers, and 
genial Mrs. Wolferton knitting and talking and 
j begging her ‘‘to make herself at home. ” Then 
‘ there was a tempting luncheon, a drive, a socia- 
J ble dinner — which included Fred Wolferton, Mr. 

Wynne, and one or two others — finally, music 
and round games, in the midst of which would 
come the disagreeable announcement — “A serv- 
ant for Miss West, if you please."’ Fred Wolf- 
erton and Mr. Wynne invariably escorted her 
home all the same, leaving her on Mrs. Harper’s 
spotless doorstep; but not coming in, nor making 
any move in that direction — as Miss Selina an- 
grily remarked from behind the drawing-room 
blind. Miss Selina had become very “cold” in 
her manner to Madeline — in fact, she was more 
than cold : she was actually and actively hostile 
— and glared at the unlucky pupil-teacher as if 
she were some kind of poisonous domestic reptile 
she had nourished in her bosom. Mrs. Wolfer- 
ton’s praise, Mrs. Wolfef ton’s partiality for Miss 
West, did not please her; but, happily, the old 
lady was going away to the south of France to 
escape the east winds, and when she returned 
she would probably have forgotten her passing 
fancy! Miss Selina was good enough to judge 
others by her own standard. 

One day there came tickets for the Theater 
Royal at Riverside, for Mrs. and the Misses 
Harper, and Miss West; with Mr. Fred Wolfer- 
ton’s compliments. He had not left home— and 
Mr. Wynne was still his guest. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


41 


‘‘To go, or not to go!” that was a question 
which Was debated with great spirit in Mrs. 
Harper’s own bedrooni. They were only too 
willing to accept with pleasure; but what about 
that girl — must they take her also? There was 
no other alternative. If she had only a slight 
cold, or even a sty on her eye; but, unfortunate- 
ly, she was never better in her life. They had 
no excuse beyond their own disinclination; go 
she must. Very grudgingly they broke the news 
to Madeline, as she sat over a slacked-down fire 
in the schoolroom, dividing her thoughts between 
a child’s story-book and Mr. Wynne — needless to 
ask which had the largest share. She could not 
help thinking a good deal of Mr. Wynne. It 
was wrong, it was foolish! Miss Selina would 
have declared that it was indelicate! Probably 
he never ga ve he?' a second thought. Her cheeks 
grew hot at the idea; but an inward voice whis- 
pered another tale. If he did not think of her, 
why did he always monopolize her at Mrs. Wolf- 
erton’s, usurping Fred’s place at the piano, why 
sit beside her at cards? Why had he begged per- 
mission to keep a flower? Why had he hinted 
that only for his poverty he would marry — or, at 
least, ask some girl to marry him — a girl who 
had no home? Who could that be? Dare she 
breathe, even to her inmost soul, that the girl’s 
name was Madeline W est? If he had not thought 
of her, why did he tell her so much about him- 
self, his dead father and mother, his rich, high, 
and mighty relations: relations who looked upon 
empty pockets as a crime; but who patronized 


44 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


passionately. “How dare you? How dare j^ou 
say such things? ' You know they, are not true. 
I went to Mrs. Wolferton’s because she was kind 
— because she asked me. I never ran after Mr. 
W ynne — never !” 

^ ‘ And pray what are you doing to-night?’ ’ with 
grim, ironical interrogation. 

“If you think that I am running after him in 
going to the theater, I can easily remain at home. 
I” — (oh, what a wrench was this! but her pride 
was roused) — “will stay at home,” removing her 
hat as she spoke. “The matter is easily set- 
tled.” 

Not so easily as she supposed, for at this mo- 
ment the sound of loud, cheery, masculine voices 
in the hall broke in upon them. The door was 
flung wide; enter Fred Wolferton, Mr. Murphy 
— (hush ! you must not tell the bishop !) an elderly 
escort for Mrs. Harper; last, not least, Mr. 
Wynne. And although Madeline, with consid- 
erable embarrassment, firmly and positively as- 
sured everyone that “she was not going,” as 
she could offer no sane reason for her sudden an- 
nouncement, and was unquestionably dressed for 
the theater, public opinion and public clamor 
carried the day. 

She replaced her hat, in answer to an impa- 
tient signal from Miss Selina, and went; but the 
gilt had been removed from the gingerbread, and 
all the way in the train — they were ten miles 
from Riverside — she was pale and silent, and 
pointedly avoided Mr. Wynne, to Miss Selina’s 
great content. However, Mr. Wynne declined 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


45 


to be avoided. He ignored Miss Selina’s hints, 
and the vacant place next to her, which she 
patted invitingly, as much as to say, “Come and 
sit here, and be happy!’’ and seated himself at 
the other side of Madeline, whoso eyes were 
straying over the theater, and who, once the 
overture commenced, began to realize that she 
was enjoying herself extremely, and would not 
allow Miss Selina’s dr^eadful insinuations to spoil 
her whole evening. 

Miss Selina, with tightly compressed lips and 
an angry glare in her little gray eyes, was aware 
that she- had been publicly slighted. What is 
that line about “A woman scorned?” She felt 
capable of anything. Her rage against Mr. 
Wynne was as hot and as consuming as her 
bitter jealousy of Madeline West. Well, they 
should suffer for their intolerable behavior, as 
she called it, meaning the simple fact of their sit- 
ting together, talking with much animation be- 
tween the acts, and looking supremely happy. 
Yes, her feelings must have immediate relief. 
She would find a way to punish them; and, as 
she sat silent, her eyes fixed upon the drop scene, 
she was revolWng a portentous plan in her own 
mind — a scheme that would rid her of her ex- 
pupil, and avenge her on the rising barrister by 
one swift blow — a scheme that would not be for 
the benefit of the smiling young couple— no, quite 
the reverse. 

The orchestra was playing a wild Polish dance, 
its burden full of sadness, despair, and weird, 
fantastic chords at one period ; at another gayly 


46 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


frolicsome, and full of outbursts of mad mirth — 
an air that exercised a strange influence upon 
them, especially on Madeline, in her present state 
of highly strung nerves and repressed mental 
excitement. She drank in that wild melody; it 
haunted her as long as she lived. When heard 
among other scenes, it always recalled this night 
— this momentous night, the very crisis of her 
existence. She gazed at the stage, at the big, 
red, mysterious curtain, the bent flgures in the 
orchestra, the florally ornamented theater, the 
gay company, with fans and opera-glasses, and 
asked herself, “Was it all real?’^ 

At last the play was over ; the actors had been 
called before the footlights and vociferously ap- 
plauded, and had bowed themselves away. And 
now people began to move, to look about for cloaks 
and wraps and overcoats, and to hurry off, as if 
the place was on Are ! The crowd was great. Out- 
side it was snowing hard, and inside the crush 
was almost suffocating. 

“ITl look after you. Miss West,” said Mr. 
Wynne, eagerly, as they found a footing in the 
passage among hundreds of the recent audience. 

“Very well. Be sure you do!’^ put in Miss 
Selina, with unwonted briskness. “We are 
certain to get separated. Look here, Madeline” 
^ — lowering her voice suddenly — “meet us at the 

bottom of the station steps. Yon know the 
place. Mind you are not late; it’s the last 
train!” 

And with this injunction on her lips, she was 
borne away in the crowd, in her smart, pink 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


47 


opera mantle— once the property of the rich Miss 
West— and soon lost to sight. 

‘‘Let as wait until the rush is over, and take 
it quietly,” said Wynne, struggling vainly to 
look at his watch. “We will get a hansom, and 
be at the station in no time—before them, ten to 
one— for they are a large party.” 

Inwardly he marveled at Miss Selina’s arrange- 
ment. He was not aware that she had her rea- 
sons — well-thought-out plans — and he was too 
well satisfied to question the matter. After a 
little, when the crush had lessened, he made his 
way down to the portico, secured a hansom, and 
drove with his charge to the place of rendezvous, 
the foot of the steps — a covered entry, luckily, 
for the snow was falling thick and fast. They 
waited — it was bitterly cold — a chill little wind 
rose, and sobbed and wailed round them. Five 
minutes, and no one came to meet them. Ten 
minutes! still no one, and the hurrying crowd 
that had passed up had now entirely ceased. 

“I hope they have not come to grief!” said 
Wynne. And, suddenly looking at his watch, 
he added, “I’ll tell you what — we can’t wait any 
longer, or wo will miss our train. We must run 
for it as it is,” springing quickly up the steps. 

Too late ! Too late ! The red light of the last 
train to Streambridge was just disappearing into 
the big tunnel. What was to be done? Ho 
stood for a moment irresolute. Yes; it was tlie 
last train, and it was gone. A cab was the first 
idea. Leaving Madeline, who was benumbed 
with waiting, and a good deal frightened, he 


48 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


hurried to the cab -rank. It was empty and void. 
He waylaid a passing cabby, and told him the 
state of the case. 

“Ten miles in deep snow! Couldn’t be done, 
sir, at no price.” 

The same story was repeated elsewhere. There 
was nothing for it but to go back to Madeline, 
who was now shivering over the dying fire in 
the ladies’ waiting-room. 

“Well?” she asked, raising her face expect- 
antly. 

“ISTocab to be had,” he rejoined, with assumed 
sangfroid, 

“No cab to be had!” she repeated, her eyes 
darkening and dilating with horror. “Oh, Mr. 
Wynne, can we walk?” Mad project! 

“No. I fancy the best thing will be to stop 
here all night — I mean at the Railway Hotel — 
and go on by the first train in the morning. I 
will go to the -landlady and ask her to look after 
you, and I will find quarters elsewhere. Ifc will 
be all right, ” he continued reassuringly. “Are 
you certain that Miss Selina said the foot of the 
steps?” he asked, as if struck by an after- 
thought. 

“Yes; quite certain,” resolutely. 

“Here!” he called to a sleepy porter. “Did 
you see a party looking for people by the last 
train — three ladies and three gentlemen?” 

“Yes, sir; stout old party and two elderly 
ladies” — (oh, ye gods! if the Misses Harper had 
heard him!) — “three gents. They came by the 
W est Street entrance ; they did seem looking — 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


49 


that is, the gents was — but one of the ladies said 
you were all right, and bundled the whole pack 
into a carriage. She seemed in a terrible flurry. ’’ 

‘‘Well, we can do no good by waiting here,” 
said Wynne, at length. “Come along, there is 
nothing to be frightened at. Miss West.” (Miss 
West was crying quietly, and very much alarmed 
indeed.) “You will be back in time for break- 
fast. It was all an accident — a misunderstand- 
ing, and if there is any one to blame, or to be 
blamed, you must blame me.'' 

“I know they will be awfully angry,” said 
Madeline, turning her white face to his. “I 
don’t know ivhat they will say!” 

“Not angry, when I have explained everything 
to their entire satisfaction. I will go security 
that you will not get into any trouble. I will 
see Mrs. Harper myself.” 

And, really, half an hour later, as Madeline 
sat with her feet on the fender of a luxurious 
bedroom in the Railway Hotel — a magnificent 
apartment to her benighted eyes — with a hot 
coal fire before her and a cup of steaming coffee 
in her hand, she began to cheer up, and to take a 
brighter view of the situation. What harm was 
it, after all? Missing a train — nothing so very 
dreadful. She would only get a scolding at the 
worst. Alas ! she was but too well accustomed 
to scoldings! 

But Laurence Wynne, as he fought his way 
to another hotel though the soft, spongj’ snow, 
with the collar of his coat turned up, and his 
head bent against the stinging sleet, looked 


50 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


graver than he had done when he was talking 
to his late companion. It was an exceedingly 
awkward business, and he had an uncomfortable 
conviction that Miss Selina was at the bottom of 
the situation. She had sent them to one en- 
trance, and arrived at the other herself ; had re- 
quested them to wait — and miss the train. There 
had been an expression in her eye that was dis- 
tinctly hostile, as he had suddenly encountered 
it over the top of her fan. Selina Harper meant 
mischief — had laid a neat little trap into which 
he had artlessly tumbled. ‘‘However,’’ he said 
to himself, as he entered the coffee-room of a 
palatial hotel, “half the evils in the world are 
those which have never happened. No doubt 
the worst of the adventure would merely resolve 
itself into a bad quarter of an hour — for him— 
with Mrs. Harper.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


51 


CHAPTER V 

EXPELLED 

The. next morning, leaving Madeline at the 
station to follow by a later train, Mr. Wynne 
called at Harperton, in order to have a little ex- 
planation. The maid’s face (she was an old 
maid) looked portentously solemn as she opened 
the door; and — oh! ominous objects ! — two good- 
sized basket trunks, and a bonnet-box, stood 
waiting in the hall. As he glanced at them in 
passing, some one came out through a door just 
behind him, and said, in a biting tone — 

‘‘Dear me! I am surprised to see Mr. Wynne 
under the circumstances; but, as he is here, per- 
haps he can give an address for Miss West’s 
boxes?” 

“May I ask what you mean. Miss Selina?” 
he said, turning to confront her the instant the 
drawing room door was closed. 

“I mean,” she replied, flushing to a dull brick 
color, “that after her escapade of last evening, 
Miss West never enters this house again— a young 


52 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


lady who stayed out all night!” she concluded 
with a wild, dramatic gesture. 

“But, you know, that was not her fault. Miss 
Selina. We waited exactly where you told us — 
at the bottom of the steps— and so missed the 
train. I could not get a cab, though I did my 
utmost, the snow was too deep. I left Miss 
West at the Railway Hotel and brought her 
from there this morning. She — ” 

“Oh,” interrupted his listener, throwing up 
both hands, “pray spare me the details! It is 
nothing to me whom she was with or where she 
went. We have quite done with her. It was a 
planned thing between you, no doubt.” 

“Miss Selina,” cried Mr. Wynne, “your sex 
protects you ! A man dared not sa^^ what you 
have permitted yourself to utter, and do not in 
your own heart believe. Am I to understand 
that because, through waiting for you, by your 
own express direction. Miss West lost her only 
train home last night, and was obliged to remain 
in Riverside, you would blast her reputation and 
thrust her out of doors?” 

“You are!” she returned, defiantly, looking 
him full ill the face with her cold, cruel, little 
eyes. 

“And may I ask what is to become of the 
young lady?” he inquired, with a forced calm- 
ness that was ominous enough. 

“Nay,” shrugging her shoulders, “that is a 
matter between her and you. ” Then she added, 
with an evil smile, “She need not refer to us for 
a character.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


5B 


‘‘Perhaps your mother will be more lenient,” 
he said, making a great effort to restrain his 
temper. “Remember that Miss West has no 
home and no friends. Can I see Mrs. Harper?” 

“I am speaking for my mother,” she answered 
sharply. “She refuses to see the girl, or allow 
her inside our door. There is no use in your 
persisting — it is waste of time. We are not rich, 
but, at any rate,” choking with excitement, “we 
have always been respectable!” 

“I am delighted to hear it,” he replied, mak- 
ing a low, ironical bow; “and as there is noth- 
ing further to be said, I will wish you good- 
morning,” 

“Good-morning!” replied Miss Selina, ringing 
the bell, and curtseying simultaneously. “You 
will be pleased to remove Miss West's boxes at 
once, and inform her that letters from her will 
be returned unopened” — thereby securing the 
last shot, and the last word. And Mr. Wynne 
walked out of the house in a bewildered and con- 
fused state of mind, outwardly cool, but in real- 
ity at boiling point. 

He had not proceeded far when he met Made- 
line coming toward him, with a terrified and ex- 
pectant face. Now was the moment for action. 
His senses were stung to alertness, his mind 
cleared of misgivings; he made a desperate re- 
solve. She was thrust out homeless and alone 
in the wide, wide world ! She should share his 
home, such as it was; it was better than none. 
She should, and she would, be his wife— and rich 
in love if in nothing else. Prudence had hitherto 


54 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


sealed his lips — for her sake chiefly. Now that 
she had nt) resources, no place open to receive 
her, he could and would speak. 

The first thing he did was to hail a cab, and 
dispatch the man straight back to Harperton for 
Miss West’s luggage, desiring him to bring it to 
the station. 

‘^Why, what does it mean? Are they so very 
angry?” she asked with blanched cheeks. ‘‘Oh, 
you don’t mean that they are sending me away?” 
For she noticed that Mr. Wynne looked unusu- 
ally pale and grav'e. 

“Come down here with me,” leading her into 
some public gardens that they were passing, 
“and I will tell you all about it.” 

The gardens were miserably wintry. Snow 
lay on the ground, a couple of boys were snow- 
balling, some starving red-wings fluttered across 
the path, a' granite-gray sky lowered overhead. 
Surely it was the last place on God’s earth in 
which to relate a love tale; and the girl herself, 
what a picture of misery! Oh! thought the 
young man^ if Mrs. Wolferton had but been at 
home — but, alas ! she was abroad —she would 
have been a true friend to this poor forlorn child. 
Madeline was, of course, wearing her evening 
dress, such as it was — at any rate, it was thin. 
A shabby little plush opera cloak barely covered 
her perishing neck and arms. Over this was 
drawn a meager black cape. On her head she 
wore a sunburned sailor hat ; in her frozen, mit- 
tened hand she held a fan; her face was pinched 
with cold, and white with anxiety. No lovely 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


55 


lady fair was here to woo this bleak January 
forenoon. And what of ambition — the stern, 
jealous mistress to whom he was pledged? 

‘‘They are very angry, senselessly angry,’’ 
began the young man. “They won’t take you 
back again, and have actually packed your boxes 
ready for removal. However, when one door 
shuts, another opens. There is a home ready 
for you, Madeline. Can you guess where it is?” 

She gazed at Mr. Wynne, and stood perfectly 
still and very white, with her thin, sensitive lips 
tightly pressed together, and made no reply. 

“You know that it is my home,” he continued 
eagerly. “I need not tell you that I love you, 
and so well do I love you that until now I have 
never dared even to whisper my love. I am 
poor, I have my way to make as yet, it may be 
a life of struggling poverty. Can you share it — 
will you venture, Madeline?” 

The girl stepped back a pace, and suddenly sat 
down upon an iron garden bench, still silent, and 
covered her face with her mittened hands. 

“Will you not answer me?” he pleaded. He 
dared not remove her hands, or offer her a ca- 
ress. The snowballing had ceased; the present 
scene in real life attracted the two boys, who had 
drawn near. The lady was sick, or looked 
like it. 

“You do not mean it,” she faltered. “I know 
you are very, very kind, but I cannot accept your 
pity, for that is what it comes to.” 

“I solemnly declare to you that it is not,” he 
rejoined with emphasis; “but even if it were, 


56 


MARKIED OR SINGLE? 


have you not heard that pity is akin to 
love?” 

“It is utterly impossible/’ she said slowly. 
“You are speaking out of the goodness of your 
heart, on the impulse of the moment. This time 
yesterday, tell me honestly/’ raising her lovely 
eyes to his, “had you any intention of — of — of 
this?” 

“To be truthful, then, I had not.” 

“There, you see, that is enough. There is 
your answer,” with a quick little gesture. 

“No, no, hear me out. It was on your ac- 
count that I held my tongue. If I had had a 
decent income I would have spoken to you long 
ago; but I felt that I had no right to remove you 
from Mrs. Harper’s care without having a com- 
fortable home to offer you. I meant to work 
very hard and to return next year. Now all has 
been changed. Circumstances alter cases. I 
ask you now, Madeline, will you be afraid to be- 
gin with me at the bottom of the ladder — some- 
thing tells me that I shall reach the top?” 

“I shall only be a dead weight and a burden,” 
she replied in a broken voice. She was relent- 
ing. Her own heart was an eloquent advocate 
for Mr. Wynne, 

“What will your relations say when they hear 
that you wish to marry a portionless girl, a — beg- 
gar?” she murmured tremulously. 

“They will say nothing that can affect us. I 
am independent. I have no claims on them, and 
they have no right to dictate to me. By the time 
they hear the news, we shall, I hope, be married. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


57 


We have nothing to wait for, and the sooner you 
have a home of your own the better. I wish I 
had a sister or some near relative that I could 
take you to, but I am almost as much alone in 
the world as you are.” 

In the end Mr. Wynne prevailed — was not 
talking his trade! — and Madeline West walked 
out of that wintry white garden his affianced 
wife. 

^ Rash young man ! Rash young woman ! / One 
would have thought that they had the wealth of 
Croesus, the full consent and warmest wishes of 
tribes of wealthy relations, to look at their faces 
as they passed through the gates side by side. 

Miss West did not feel the snow soaking 
through her thin walking shoes. No, she was 
treading on air — had thrown all doubts and mis- 
givings to the winds, and was prepared to make 
the most of this heaven-sent period. She was 
about to enter on a new and happy life, believing 
that, although a poor man’s wife, her path would 
be strewn with roses. 

She had about as much practical experience of 
household cares — the value of pounds, shillings, 
and pence — as one of the children in the third 
class at Harperfcon. As for Laurence Wynne, 
Madeline was his, Madeline was an angel, young, 
unspoiled, and unsophisticated, with modest 
wishes, and a firm faith in him. Their future 
was before them ! It was ! 


58 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER VI 

“poverty comes in at the door” 

In a very short time Madeline West was Mad- 
eline Wynne. She was married at a little old 
church in the City, with no other witnesses than 
the verger and the clerk; and Mr. and Mrs. 
Wynne spent a week in Paris ere they set up 
housekeeping, in modest lodgings not far from 
the Temple, and from which, by leaning well out 
of the drawing-room window, and nearly dislo- 
cating your neck, you could obtain a glimpse of 
the Thames Embankment. 

The good old days, when Traddles and Sophy 
lived in chambers, and entertained half-a-dozen 
of “the dear girls,” were no more. Mr. AVynne 
was obliged to set up his little tent outside the 
venerable precincts, in the second floor front of 
S^flferino Place. To Madeline it was a palace, 
because it was her very own. ■ Here she might 
poke the fire, alter the arrangement of the furni- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


59 


ture, pile on coals, order tea at any time, and go 
out and come in as she pleased. She could 
scarcely realize such liberty! Neither could she 
realize her wedding-ring, and she frequently 
stared for a moment in doubt when she heard 
herself called “Mrs. Wynne.” 

Laurence was not so poor as she imagined, for 
he hired a piano, bought her songs, flowers, and 
—oh! joy — three such pretty new dresses; he 
took her to the theaters, for walks in the parks 
(when he had time), he showed her most of the 
sights of London — St. Paul’s, Westminster Ab- 
be.y, the National Gallery, and the Tower. 

He was even extravagant in one line. He laid 
out for her a reckless amount of shillings and 
half-crowns on literary papers, magazines, and 
books. Laurence was fond of reading; she was 
not, and she little knew how she startled him 
when she exclaimed, “Besides all the other hate- 
ful things you have delivered me from, Laurence, 
you have delivered me from books! I never wish 
to open one again!” 

Now Laurence had been looking forward to 
introducing his pretty Madeline to all the great 
masters in English literature, to hearing her 
fresh comments, to sharing her raptures, to com- 
paring flrst impressions, favorite pieces, favorite 
characters; in short, to opening for this girl of 
eighteen the portals of a new world. Alas! it 
soon became evident that Madeline had an abso- 
lute Lick of literary taste. She had a taste, for 
music, for flowers; a marvelous taste in colors, 
and in dress; but for reading, as he understood 


60 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


it, not an atom. (At first he had had visions of 
reading her some sketches and articles of his own, 
but soon changed his mind, and kept his MS. in 
his writing-desk.) He read aloud well, and 
selected, as he believed, gems; but, unfortu- 
nately, Mrs. Wynne preferred paste! 

Lamb’s essays were “quite too awfully dry.” 
Wordsworth was ten times worse — she could 
hardly stifle her yawns. And even when he was 
reading “Silas Marner,” and, as he considered, 
George Eliot's masterpiece, he noticed that Mad- 
eline was shyly perusing the advertisements in a 
ladies’ newspaper. She looked so nonplused and 
unhappy if he paused and suddenly asked her, 
“If that was not fine? and how such and such a 
passage struck her?” 

At length he relinquished his efforts. It was 
time, when Madeline, with a pretty pout, said, 
“My dear Laurence, I might as well be at 
school; you are just talking like Mr. Falk, our 
professor of English literature. Such an ugly 
little mummy.” 

“And to whom you never listened?” 

“Not I; and I never could remember names, 
periods, or dates. You must make the best of 
me. In some ways you will find that I am 
hopelessly stupid.” 

In spite of these tiresome readings, Madeline 
was thoroughly happy; there was not one single 
drawback, not one little cloud on lier sky, if we 
except an occasionally heavy magazine article 
to which she was obliged to lend her ears. And 
Laurence was happy, too. It was delightful to 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


61 


come home those dark, wet nights, and find a 
kiss, a blazing fire, and his pretty Madeline await- 
ing him. She was always smiling, always so 
ready to see the comic side of everything, a ver- 
itable sunbeam in that drawing-room. 

‘‘Who would be a bachelor?” he asked him- 
self contemptuously, as he watched her flitting 
to and fro after dinner, pulling up his armchair 
and filling his pipe. If he had one little arriere 
pensee it was this, that she would not ahvays 
give him mutton chops, and a wish that her 
ideas of a menu were a little more expansive. 

Nevertheless he was perfectly content. He 
had an incentive to work hard now, and he did 
work. He was getting known in a small way. 
He had the gift of oratory, of what is known as 
legal tact, a handsome presence, and the power 
— given to so few— of swaying men’s minds with 
his eloquence^ as the flame of a candle in the 
wind. But, then, he vvas only twenty-eight— a 
mere boy in the eyes of the ancient profession, 
where a man begins to make a start about fifty. 
Still Laurence Wynne had his foot on the lower 
rung of the ladder. More than one shrewd solic- 
itor had noted him. His luck had turned; his 
marriage had brought him good fortune, though 
it had scared away all his relations, and he had 
completely dropped out of society. 

But this fool’s Paradise was not to last — it 
never does. The angel that opened the gate, and 
drove the foolish pair out into the everyday, hard, 
stony world was typhoid fever. 

The hot summer succeeding their marriage 


62 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


was a trying one, and in the sultry September 
days typhoid fever laid hold on many victims, 
among others on the hard working young barris- 
ter — seized him with a death-like grip, dung him 
on a sick bed, and kept him there for months. 

The fever was so difficult to shake off, and it 
had brought so many other ills in its train. Fi- 
nances were low — as they are sure to be when 
the bread-winner is idle. Doctors’ bills and 
chemists’ bills were mounting up, as well as the 
butcher’s and baker’s, not to speak of the land, 
lady’s little account. 

All the burden now lay upon one pair of young 
shoulders — Madeline’s; and, to quote a homely 
but expressive phrase, she absolutely did not 
know where to turn. She had neither mone}’ 
nor friends. Her husband had no capital; his 
slender fortune had been invested in his educa- 
tion and profession. And as to his friends and 
his distant connections, they had disowned him. 
When they had heard of what they were good 
enough to call ‘diis low marriage with a teacher 
in a school,” they had washed their hands of him 
with wonderful unanimitjL Society had lost 
sight of him for months,; Mr. and Mrs. Wynne 
had no acquaintances. Poor Madeline was in 
terrible straits, but her courage rose with the 
occasion; she was brave and energetic, and did 
not sit down wil-h her hands before her and 
cry. 

A schoolfellow of her husband’s (another 
young barrister) came to see her and him, and 
gave help in the shape of advice which for once 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


63 


was valuable. They moved to the top story — 
the attics. (That was a step of which their land- 
lady highly approved.) And he procured some 
law copying for Madeline — who wrote a clear, 
neat hand— which brought in a few shillings, and 
kept the actual wolf from the door. He sent 
fish, grapes, and other little delicacies to the in- 
valid, and was in truth that vara avis — a friend 
in need. 

^He considered that Wynne had behaved like a 
madman in marrying on nothing; but certainly 
the girl was an immense temptation — so young, 
so pretty — such eyes he had never seen — so un- 
sophisticated and fresh, and yet possessing ex- 
cellent sense and an elastic and dauntless spirit. 
Here for once was an instance in which poverty 
had not thrust love out of the window. Strange, 
but true, their reverses had only served to draw 
the Wynnes more closely together. They af- 
forded a refreshing study to Mr. Jessop, who 
was a cynic and a philosopher in a small way, 
and who sneered and snarled and marveled. 
Things had not even come to the worst with 
these unfortunate people, not until a third was 
added to the establishment in the shape of a 
Master Wynne, who puckered up his wrinkled 
red face, thrust bis creasy fists into his eyes, and^ 
made hideous grimaces at the world in which he 
found himself — and in which, to tell the truth, 
he was not particularly wanted, except by his 
mother, to whom he was Hot only welcome, but, 
in her partial eyes, a little household ^od ! 

His father, who was slowly recovering— an 


64 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


emaciated specter of what he had been — was 
dubious with regard to the striking resemblance 
to himself, and frequently wondered in his in- 
most soul as to what was to be the future of his 
son and heir? How was he to be fed, clothed, 
and educated? Dismal echoes answered, ‘ ‘ How?’ ’ 
for the Wynnes were now desperately poor. 

I mean by this, that Mr. Wynne’s watch had 
long been ticketed in a pawn- broker’s window, 
that Madeline’s one little brooch had gone the 
same way; also — oh, breathe it not! — her best 
gown and hat; also Mr. Wynne’s topcoat and 
evening dress clothes; that the invalid alone 
tasted meat — and in scanty portions — Madeline 
telling many clever fibs with regard to her own 
dinner. Her inexhaustible spirits and vivacity 
seemed to sustain her — that, and a little bread 
and tea. 

The one person who was well-to-do was the 
baby. He was clothed in a beautiful cloak and 
hood — Mr. Jessop’s gifts — purchased, with many 
blushes, by that keen-eyed, close-shaven gentle- 
man, and presented with pride to his godson and 
namesake. More than once Madeline’s mental 
eye had seen these sumptuous garments smug- 
gled away to the pawnbroker’s round the corner, 
but she fought hard with the idea, and had 
sternly kept it at bay — as yet. Their circum- 
stances were, indeed, all but desperate, when one 
evening Mr. Jessop came thundering up the 
stairs, newspaper in hand, and panted out, as he 
threw himself into the nearest chair and took off 
his hat — 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


65 


‘‘I say, Mrs. Wynne, what was your name 
before you were married?’’ 

‘^My name,” she echoed, looking blankly at 
him, for she was trying to keep the baby quiet 
and to do some copying simultaneously — vain 
and exasperating task — “was West — Madeline 
West.” 

‘“Ah! I thought so!” he cried triumphantly, 
clearing his throat and unfolding his paper with 
a flourish. “Then just listen to this: ‘Made- 
line West. — If this should meet the eye of 
Madeline Sidne}" West, she is earnestly implored 
to communicate with Mrs. H. of H. House, at 
once, when she will hear of something greatly 
to her advantage.’ Now what do you think of 
that?” he demanded of his friend, who, drawn 
up near a handful of cinders, had been poring 
over a law book. “Looks like a legacy, doesn’t 
it?” 

“Too good to be true, I’m afraid. Eh, Made- 
line?” % 

Madeline turned her face alternately on the 
two men. A faint color had invaded her thin, 
white cheeks, and her eyes brightened as she 
said — 

“There is no harm in answering the notice; it 
may mean something.” 

“Why, of course it does,” cried Mr. Jessop, 
emphatically. “Get a pen, give me the infant, 
and write a line now, and I’ll post it.” 

And Madeline accordingly sat down and wrote 
to Mrs. Harper on the spot, while her compan- 
ions watched her in silence. 


64 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


emaciated specter of what he had been — was 
dubious with regard to the striking resemblance 
to himself, and frequently wondered in his in- 
most soul as to what was to be the future of his 
son and heir? How was he to be fed, clothed, 
and educated? Dismal echoes answered, “How?’’ 
for the Wynnes were now desperately poor. 

I mean by this, that Mr. Wynne’s watch had 
long been ticketed in a pawn* broker’s window, 
that Madeline’s one little brooch had gone the 
same way; also — oh, breathe it not!— her best 
gown and hat; also Mr. W^mne’s topcoat and 
evening dress clothes; that the invalid alone 
tasted meat — and in scanty portions— Madeline 
telling many clever fibs with regard to her own 
dinner. Her inexhaustible spirits and vivacity 
seemed to sustain her — that, and a little bread 
and tea. 

The one person who was well-to-do was the 
baby. He was clothed in a beautiful cloak and 
hood — Mr. Jessop’s gifts — purchased, with many 
blushes, by that keen-eyed, close-shaven gentle- 
man, and presented with pride to his godson and 
namesake. More than once Madeline’s mental 
eye had seen these sumptuous garments smug- 
gled away to the pawnbroker’s round the corner, 
but she fought hard with the idea, and had 
sternly kept it at bay— as yet. Their circum- 
stances were, indeed, all but desperate, when one 
evening Mr. Jessop came thundering up the 
stairs, newspaper in hand, and panted out, as he 
threw himself into the nearest chair and took off 
his hat — 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


65 


‘‘I say, Mrs. Wynne, what was your name 
before you were married?’’ 

‘‘My name,” she echoed, looking blankly at 
him, for she was trying to keep the baby quiet 
and to do some copying simultaneously — vain 
and exasperating task — “was West — Madeline 
West.” 

“‘Ah! I thought so!” he cried triumphantly, 
clearing his throat and unfolding his paper with 
a flourish. “Then just listen to this: ‘Made- 
line West. — If this should meet the eye of 
Madeline Sidnej" West, she is earnestly implored 
to communicate with Mrs. H. of H. House, at 
once, when she will hear of something greatly 
to her advantage.’ Now what do you think of 
that?” he demanded of his friend, who, drawn 
up near a handful of cinders, had been poring 
over a law book. “Looks like a legacy, doesn’t 
it?” 

“Too good to be true, I’m afraid. Eh, Made- 
line?” % 

Madeline turned her face alternately on the 
two men. A faint color had invaded her thin, 
white cheeks, and her eyes brightened as she 
said — 

“There is no harm in answering the notice; it 
may mean something.” 

“Why, of course it does,” cried Mr. Jessop, 
emphatically. “Get a pen, give me the infant, 
and write a line now, and I’ll post ifc.” 

And Madeline accordingly sat down and wrote 
to Mrs. Harper on the spot, while her compan- 
ions watched her in silence. 


66 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘Dear Mrs. Harper — I have seen your no- 
tice in the Times of to-day. My address is — 2, 
Solferino Place, Westminster. 

“Yours truly, 

“M. W.’^ 

She was so accustomed to sign merely her 
initials, and was so flurried between anticipation, 
anxiety, excitement, and the screams of the 
baby, that she never had the presence of mind 
to write her full name, and on this slight omis- 
sion, this one little cog, turned a most important 
factor in her future career. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


67 


CHAPTER VII 

A TELEGRAM FOR MISS WEST 

The very morning after Madeline had dis- 
patched her letter, a telegram was handed in for 
Miss West, 2, Solferino Place. The landlady 
herself mounted, breathless, to the attics, with 
the tan-colored envelope in her hand. 

was just for sending it away, Mrs. Wynne,” 
she gasped, surveying her with an inquiring eye; 
“but it came into my mind as I’d show it to you 
on the chance. ” 

“Thank you; it is for me,” rejoined her 
lodger, hastily tearing it open and running her 
eyes over it. As she read, she became crimson 
with amazement and agitation. “Come at once 
— to-day if possible. Nevys of your father. — 
From Mrs. Harper, Streambridge, ” was the 
message. 

“But it’s for Miss West, and you’ve gone 
and opened it!” exclaimed the landlady, sus- 
piciously. “How is that, eh? I never would 
have supposed — no, never,” folding her arms 
belligerently, “as you wasn’t on the square; 


68 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


and as Vve alius kep’ a respectable ’ouse, I 
couldn’t think — ” 

‘‘You need 7iot think, Mrs. Kane; you need 
not alarm yourself about the matter, it is all 
quite right. I am Mrs. Wynne, but I was 
Miss West once upon a time. The sender of 
the me^^sage does not know that I am married,” 
interrupted Madeline, speaking with studied 
composure — though her heart was beating fear- 
fully fast. 

Insolent as Mrs. Kane was, she dared not quar- 
rel with her. Her roof covered them on suf- 
ferance. Were she to thrust them forth, where 
were they to go? They were entirely at her 
mercy, for they owed her money; and latterly 
she had been inclined to take out a large amount 
of interest in rude insolence, bitting gibes, and un- 
pleasant hints with regard to “paupers a com- 
ing and settling down on poor, honest, hard- 
working people — paupers as could afford dress, 
and theaters, and pianos once, and saved noth- 
ing for a rainy day!” 

Paupers — impecunious people like the Wynnes, 
especially Mrs. Wynne, who bore the brunt of 
these encounters — could not afford to stand on 
their dignity, and be independent and “move 
on.” They must submit humbly; but it was in- 
sufferably galling — as galling to Madeline as Miss 
Selina’s yoke, that had pressed upon her so sorely 
but one little year ago. 

Who but herself knew with what deprecating 
eyes and voice she had pleaded with her impa- 
tient landlady for a little time, how humbly she 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


69 


ventured to ask for coals, how stealthily she 
crept up and down stairs, carrying baby, and 
doing her own miserable errands, making her 
presence as unobtrusive as possible, for fear of 
offending her hostess’s threatening eyes. 

The hostess’s threatening eyes were fixed upon 
her now, with a look that was an insult, as she 
listened to her hurried explanation with a down- 
drawn lip. 

‘‘Oh, well, I suppose, as I know no better^ I 
must believe you,’’ and with a noisy sniff that 
intimated quite the reverse, Mrs. Kane glared 
once round their squalid sitting-room, to see if 
anything were broken or missing, or the valu- 
able property damaged in any way ; and, failing 
to discover the smallest pretext for complaint, 
passed out of the apartment with a heavy and 
aggressive strut, and banged the door behind 
her. 

Madeline lost not a second in rushing to the 
invalid with the great news, and placing the slip 
of pink paper in his hand. 

“There is something at last! I feel that a 
change is coming; these terrible days cannot — 
cannot go on forever. I believe my father is 
alive, and coming home! What do you think, 
Laurence?” she asked, and her voice trembled. 

Laurence, still holding the telegram in his 
thin, transparent hand, gazed at his wife for 
some seconds in silence. How changed she was, 
he thought, with a pang of self-reproach. She 
was shabby — very genteelly shabby. Her black 
dress was all mended and pieced, her face was 


70 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


haggard, her eyes sunken, their look eager, 
anxious, almost desperate. 

An intelligent spectator would have declared 
that she was obviously half-starved, and so she 
was. But how furiously she would have dis- 
claimed such a pronouncement. She would 
rather have died than have admitted that truth. 
As long as Laurence had meat once a day, as 
long as baby had milk, she did very well on any- 
thing, and anything may mean almost nothing 
— it is an elastic word. Meanwhile, Laurence 
had been telling himself that he had been a cul- 
pable wretch to marry Madeline West. What 
would he say to her father when he placed his 
daughter in his arms — a daughter in all but rags, 
with a face pinched with famine, without a 
friend, without a penny, and weighted with a 
dying husband and a peculiarly ill-tempered 
baby? 

How much better would it have been if he had 
curbed his foolish fancy— nipped it in the bud, 
and left Madeline to her fate. Why had he not 
wired to Mrs. Wolferton? What would her 
father say? Would he cast her off? 

Madeline had hinted that, as well as she could 
judge her father from his letters, he was fond of 
show and style and great people. He wished 
her to dance and sing and play well, and to 
speak French; but he had never said a word 
about literature, or the English classics, or what 
Laurence called “the higher education of 
women.” On the other hand, he hoped that 
she would always make acquaintance with girls 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


71 


her equals, or even superiors, and never lower 
herself by school-friendships that it would be 
impossible for him to recognize. Madeline had 
once innocently repeated this to her husband 
verbatim, and it came vividly before him now. 
Madeline had done more than form a friendship 
of which her aspiring parent would disapprove, 
a friendship that could be slipped out of like an 
old glove. Here she was tied for life to a poor 
man, whose only career seemed likely to be that 
of an invalid — a stone round her neck as long as 
he lived. 

He had but faint hopes of his own recovery; 
everything was against it. He knew that this 
could not be helped, and he was very patient. 
If he had good wine, wholesome delicacies to 
tempt his appetite, instead of gruesome scraps of 
stale, ill-cooked meat and poisonous port at a 
shilling ; if he could have a change to pure, in- 
vigorating air, he might yet have a chance. 
And he knew that he might as well long for the 
moon— for the entire firmament ! 

‘‘What is to be done, Laurence?” asked Made- 
line, rather surprised at his long silence. “What 
do you think of it?” 

“You must go, of course,” he returned at last. 
“Go to-day.” 

“To-day! My dear Laurence, what are you 
thinking of?” sitting down on a rush chair as 
she spoke, and staring at him in amazement. 
“Where is the money to come from? Look 
here,” producing a. shabby little purse, with a 
brass clasp, and l^urning out the pitiably small 


72 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


contents, “all I possess is two and seven- 
pence.” 

“Still you must go, Maddie, by hook or crook; 
much may depend on it. A return third-class — ” 

“A return third-class would be twenty-two 
shillings — one pound two,” she interrupted. 
“And, besides, I could not go in this,” looking 
down at her gown; “now,” appealingly, “could 
I?” 

“No, you could not,” he replied, with a little 
flush on his pale face. “And you must get 
something out. To get something out something 
else must go in. And,” speaking with an effort, 
“I never thought to part with them, but they 
could not go in a better cause. I mean,” wiping 
his damp forehead, “my mother’s miniature and 
my father’s medals. The miniature is framed 
in seed pearls; the back is gold — it ought to 
fetch a couple of pounds. It’s in my desk, Mad- 
die, in a little morocco case.” There were other 
things in his desk — neatly-copied-out manu- 
scripts. These, alas! were valueless — he had 
proved them. “Take it, my dear, and welcome; 
and the medals — they will fetch a few shillings.” 

“Oh, Laurence,” suddenly kneeling down be- 
side him, “I don’t like to! Must I really? I 
know you think so much of them. They are the 
only relics you possess. No, no; I really can’t !” 

“ Yes. you can, and you shall,” said the sick 
man, with sudden decision. “Here, at last, is 
an opening for you, my poor Maddie. Some- 
thing tells me that your father is alive — is com- 
ing home rich. You are his ohly child, his heir- 


MAKRIEB OR SINGLE? 


73 


ess. You will be looked after and cherished 
when I am gone. Yes, my dear, it will be best 
for you in the end. It was most wicked of me 
to marry you. I see it all now, only too plainly. 
I had put by nothing for such a strait, and I had 
no wealthy friends. But I never dreamed that 
it would come to this, Maddie; believe me, I 
never did. Forgive me!” he urged, and tears, 
born of weakness and remorse, stood in his hol- 
low eyes. 

‘‘Laurence!” she interrupted, attempting to 
place her hand on his mouth. 

“I should have walked home in the snow that 
night; I should have taken you to the Wolfer- 
tons’ house, and telegraphed for her; I should 
have gone to the parish clergyman — done any- 
thing but what I did, and which led to my drag- 
ging you into such a pit as this !” with an inclu- 
sive wave of his hand and a glance round the 
mean little attic. “But it won’t be for long 
now,” he added in a lower voice. 

“Oh, Laurence,” she almost screamed as she 
seized his arm, “why are you telling me such 
terrible things, when we have a little gleam of 
hope at last? It is cruel — cruel of you. You 
couldn’t mean that, after all we have gone 
through together— that when we are approach- 
ing smooth water — you — you would leave 
me!” 

And here she suddenly broke down and burst 
into tears, for, alas ! she had an agonizing inward 
conviction that there was truth in what he said. 
How pale and thin and wasted he looked ! No 


74 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


one would recognize him who had seen him last 
year, with his shorn head, gaunt cheekbones, 
and sunken eyes; and she had a heart-breaking 
feeling that it was not mere actual illness, nor 
the dregs of that terrible fever, that were to 
blame for this, but that cruel, pitiless, ferocious 
wolf called want. He was dying of the lack of 
mere necessaries, and she, miserable woman, was 
powerless to procure them; and for this she laid 
down her head and wept as if her heart would 
burst— her passionate sobbing fairly frightened 
Laurence. Madeline’s tears were rarely seen; 
Madeline was always bright, cheery, almost gay, 
at the very worst of times ; and now came a re- 
action, and she was weeping as he had never 
seen any one weep before. 

“Don’t, Maddie, don’t,” he whispered, feebly 
stroking her hair; “you will be better without 
me, though you don’t think so now. You are 
young — only nineteen — many bright days may 
be in store for you. I will leave you contented- 
ly, if your father has come home. The greatest 
horror I have ever known will be lifted from my 
mind. You don’t know, dearest, what torments 
have racked me as I lay awake through the long, 
dark nights, listening to the clocks striking hour 
after hour, and wondering what would become 
of you? Now Providence has answered the 
question ; your father will give you and the child 
a home. There, Maddie, there, don’t; I can’t 
bear to see you cry like this; and 1 — I may get 
over it, and — And now, you see, you have 
awakened the baby!” as a shrill, querulous cry 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


75 


from the next room interrupted what he was 
about to say. 

The maternal instinct thus roused, he hoped 
that her tears would cease, as he was powerless 
to arrest them. And Madeline completely broken 
down — Madeline, who was always so brave, who 
had come out in a new light under the scorching 
flames of the furnace of affliction — was a sight 
that completely unmanned him. 

Madeline hastily dried her eyes, strangled her 
sobs, took her shrieking offspring out of his 
cradle, and gave him his midday bottle — an 
operation which appeased his appetite and 
soothed his feelings. Then she came back to 
her husband with the child in her arms, and said 
in a husky voice, ‘‘If you had change of air, 
good food, properly cooked, fruit, wine, and the 
little delicacies all sick people require, you would 
get well — I know you would. Promise me, 
promise that }ou will try to get better! Promise 
me that you will wish to get better, Laurence,” 
she continued tremulously, “for — for our sake.” 

“I can promise that, at any rate, Maddie,” he 
answered with a dim smile; “but you know the 
old proverb about wishes.” 

“And you know that while there’s life there’s 
hope,” she answered quickly. “I have hope; 
you must have hope, too! And now 1 am going 
out, you will have to mind baby,” placing the 
white bundle beside his father, who eyed his 
charge dubiously, as it stared at him stolidly, 
thumb in mouth. 

Madeline hurriedly put on her hat and jacket, 


76 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


and, taking a key, unlocked a brass-bound desk, 
and,, after a little search, drew out the morocco 
case. ^‘Is this it?^’ she asked, holding it up. 
“This is what you mean?” 

A nod assured her that it was. 

“You would like to look at it once more,” she 
said, gently laying it in his hand. “I don’t 
know how to take it. You are so like her, too,” 
looking down at the little oval miniature of a 
pretty, spirited girl with dark eyes and dark 
hair, and seeing her husband’s gaze fixed greed- 
ily on the portrait. “You were so fond of her, 
Laurence.” 

“Not more than I am of you, Maddie,” he 
answered, closing the case with a decisive snap. 
“And my father’s medals,” he said, as he held 
them up, and looked at them wistfully. “Well, 
they will fetch a few shillings, and they go in a 
good cause. Here, take them, my dear, and go? 
and don’t be long.” 

Needless to add this formula. Was she ever 
long? But time passed very slowly when Made- 
line was absent from those two poor attics which 
were called home. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


77 


CHAPTER VIII 

NOT MARRIED AFTER ALL 

‘‘He has not awoke since, has he?’^ asked the 
anxious mother, as, fully an hour later, she re- 
appeared with a bundle and a basket. “ISTo’^ — 
with a sigh of relief — “I see he is sound,” laying 
down her load as she spoke. “And now to begin 
at the very beginning, and to tell you everything, 
Laurence,” opening the basket and producing a 
bottle. “Here is some good port wine; I’ve car- 
ried it most carefully, so as not to shake it. You 
must have a glass* at once — that is to be the be- 
ginning.” 

“Oh, Maddie, what extravagance! When 
you—” 

“Hush! please to listen,” exhibiting as she 
spoke a bunch of grapes, six fresh eggs, a jar of 
Bovril, and a packet of biscuits from her seem- 
ingly inexhaustible store, and laying them on the 
table. 

“Then you are not going!” exclaimed her 
husband, in a tone of deep disapproval. 

“Oh, yes, I am,” she answered promptly, now 


78 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


opening the bundle, and shaking out a dress that 
she had pawned, and regarding it with an ex- 
pression that showed it was an old and favorite 
friend. “Here is an A B C guide. I go to-night 
when I have left you comfortable, and baby 
asleep. Mrs. Kane’s niece has promised to look 
after you to-morrow, and to-morrow night I re- 
turn, all being well.” 

“Then they gave you a good price for the 
miniature and the medals?” 

“Price!” she echoed indignantly. “They 
turned the miniature over and over, and sneered 
at it, and said they had no sale for such like; 
but they could not say that it wasn’t real gold 
and pearls, and they gave me eighteen shillings, 
and said it was more than it was worth, and ten 
shillings on the medals. Medals are a drug in 
the market.” 

“Then how — where did you get money for 
your journey?” asked her husband in a tone of 
amazement bordering on impatience 

“See here!” holding up both her bare hands. 
Very pretty hands they were, but now a little 
coarse from hard work. “Do you miss any- 
thing, Laurence?” coloring guiltily. 

Yes, your — wedding ring — and keeper, ” 
moment’s pause — a pause of incredulity, 
won’t be angry with me, dear, will 
f .* said coaxingly, coming and kneeling 

P7 makes no real difference, does 

ease ph^g^g0 don’t bo vexed; but I got a 
sovereign on then^^ they are the first things 
s a redeem,/ You must have nourishing 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


?9 


food, even if I had to steal it; and I would steal 
for you!’’ she added, passionately. ‘‘I shall 
only take a single ticket — third class. Mrs. 
Harper will surely lend me a few pounds, and I 
will be able to leave ten shillings for you to go 
on with.” 

‘‘How can I be angry with you, Maddie?” he 
replied. “It is all my fault — the fault of my 
rashness, thoughtlessness, selfishness — that you 
have had to do this, my poor child! Oh, that 
snowy night was a bad one for you ! I ought to 
have left you, and walked back.” 

“Such nonsense!” cried his wife, whose spirits 
were rising. “I won’t hear you say such things ! 
It’s a long lane that has no turning. I think— 
oh, I believe and pray — that I do see the end of 
ours ! And now there is a nice roast chicken for 
your dinner. I left it with Mrs. Kane down- 
stairs. She asked me if I had come in for a fort- 
une? A fortune, indeed! It was only three and 
threepence, but I told her that I believed that I 
had. Oh, dear, oh, dear, I hope my words will 
come true!” 

Madeline’s packing was represented by chang- 
ing her dress ; her preparations were confined to 
brushing, rubbing, and inking her hat, mending 
her gloves, which, like the typical landlad}’, “had 
seen better days,” and to washing and getting 
up a pair of cuffs with her own hands. 

“You look quite smart, Maddie,” said Laur- 
ence, as she completed her toilet, and came and 
showed herself to him. 


80 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘Yes; I don’t look so very, very poor, 
do I?” 

“No-o,” rather dubiously. Then he added, 
with a smile, “ Yo one who looks at your face will 
think of your clothes; and, indeed, Maddie, it is 
not fit that such a pretty giri as you are should 
be traveling alone, and third class, such a long 
journey.” 

“Rubbish! rubbish! rubbish!” she answered 
emphatically. “I’ll wear a veil, if that will 
please you; ani, indeed, no one will notice me. 
If they do, they will think I am some poor girl 
going to a situation. You think every one must 
admire what you thought pretty, you stupid 
Laurence; but I heard Mrs. Kane saying the 
other day that I’d grown ‘awfully plain.’ And 
it’s not my face Mrs. Harper will notice — you 
may be certain of that!” 

Ten minutes later she had kissed the sleeping 
baby, taken leave of Laurence, given many 
whispered directions to Mrs. Kane’s niece, and 
a whole half-sovereign from her little fund; and 
then, with a beating heart, started on foot for a 
distant terminus. No, she would not take even 
a twopenny fare in a ’bus; she must save every 
penny, and she would have plenty of rest in the 
train. And so she had, of a sort, on the hard, 
upright seat of a crowded third-class carriage for 
eight mortal hours. There is not mucii repose 
in such a situation, nor much sleep to be ob- 
tained; and the train roared along through the 
inky black night, and tore through small stations 
with a shriek, of contempt that shook them to 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


81 


their foundations, and nearly shook the teeth of 
the unhappy third-class passengers out of their 
heads. After a whole night’s traveling of this 
uneasy description, Madeline arrived at her desti- 
nation — Riverside — and quickly alighted on the 
platform. One trouble was spared her — lug- 
gage. 

She went and washed her face and hands, ar- 
ranged her hair, shook off some of the dust in 
the waiting-room, invested fourpence in a bun 
and cup of coffee, and felt herself suSiciently 
fortified to encounter Mrs. Harper — but not Miss 
Selina. Another journey by rail, a short walk, 
and she found herself once more on the familiar 
doorstep of Harperton House, and rang timidly. 

A strange maid (who knew not the delin- 
quencies of Miss West) opened the door, and was 
evidently surprised to behold such an early 
visitor . 

She informed her that Mrs. Harper was not 
down yet, nor Miss Harper, and showed her into 
the drawing-room, which was in process of being 
dusted. Here she waited for some time, while a 
sound of hasty footsteps and voices was very 
audible above her head. She looked around the 
room, and felt as if she had only quitted it yes- 
terday. And oh ! what a gap there was in her 
life between the last time she stood there, listen" 
ing to Miss Selina’s spiteful remonstrances, and 
now! But the room was precisely the same. 
There was the best piano, on which she had had 
many a music-lesson. There was Alice Burns’ 
big colored-chalk drawing, Amy Watson’s two 


82 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


water-colors; Florence Blewitt’s brass work, 
and Isabella Jones's photograph screen — all 
votive offerings to the Harper family, and 
advertisements to pupils’ relatives who came to 
make inquiries about the school. 

Presently the door opened, and Miss Harper — 
if we may dare to say so — burst into the room. 

‘‘Oh, Madeline!” she exclaimed, “so it’s you. 
She only said a young lady. How more than 
thankful I am to see you!” shaking hands as 
she spoke, and looking into her face with eager 
scrutiny. “You are thin — very thin; but thin 
or fat, you are welcome back. Come up at once 
to my mother’s room ; she is dressing. She does 
not come down early now, and she wants to see 
you” (here was an honor). “ Come, the girls are 
all in the schoolroom. The breakfast- bell will be 
rung in ten minutes,” turning to lead the way. 
Then she paused for a moment, with the hamlle 
in her hand. “You have heard about Selina?” 
she asked, with a red spot on either cheek, and 
a spark in either eye. “What! Have you not 
heard?” she added hurriedly. 

Miss Selina! It was not of Miss Selina Made- 
line had come to hear; and she shook her head 
and answered, “No; is she dead?” 

“Dead! She’s married. She married nearly 
a year ago,” returned her sister, impressively, 
“Mr. Murphy, the red-haired curate. She— she 
behaved atrociously. Don’t mention her t ) my 
mother, nor ask about her, on any account. We 
don’t speak, ” flinging the door wide as she gasped 
out the last sentence. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


83 


All the reply Madeline made was ‘‘Indeed!” 
But nevertheless she felt a very lively satisfac- 
tion to hear that her old enemy was no longer 
an inmate of Harperton, and had gone away, 
like herself, in disgrace. 

“You will find my mother rather changed,” 
whispered Miss Harper, as she rapidl}^ preceded 
her upstairs. “She’s had a slight stroke. All 
the troubles and annoyance about Selina were 
enough to kill her, and she is not what she was. 
She never comes down till the afternoon; but 
take no notice.” 

“Madeline!” cried the old lady, as Madeline 
entered her room and beheld her propped up in 
bed, in her best day cap. “This is too good to 
be true ! I scarcely expected it, though I have 
advertised every day in the ‘Times.’ Come 
here, my dear, and kiss me” — tendering a with- 
ered cheek. The old lady’s mind was certainly 
affected, thought her late pupil. That she who 
had been so ignominiously cast out should be 
thus welcomed back, and with kisses, was 
scarcely credible, unless viewed from the idea 
that Mrs. Harper had become imbecile in the 
meanwhile. But no, the reason of this astonish- 
ing change from the frost of neglect to the sun 
of welcome — affectionate welcome— was a very 
potent one indeed. It was nothing less than the 
prospect of a large sum of money. 

Since Madeline had been banished, nothing 
had gone well. Her place had been taken by a 
governess who had actually required a salary, 
as well as civility, and had been a great encum- 


84 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


brance and expense. Then came Selina’s wicked 
tampering with her sister’s sweetheart, a heart- 
burning scandal, family linen sent to the public 
wash, and a serious falling off in the school. 
Things were going badly. Every step was down 
hill — one girl leaving after another, and there 
were many vacant places at the long dinner- 
table. 

At last came a letter — from Mr. West of all 
people! inclosing a large draft on his bankers, 
and announcing his return a wealthy and suc- 
cessful man. The draft was to pay for two 
years’ schooling, with interest up to date; but 
for a whole year Miss West had been elsewhere! 
How could they honestly claim these badly- 
wanted pounds? They had banished the man’s 
daughter, and the money must be restored. 

Viewed now — in a softer light, through a 
golden atmosphere — Madeline’s deeds were ex- 
cusable. The poor girl had been Selina’s victim, 
and therefore more to be pitied than blamed. 
Madeline must be sought and, if possible, discov- 
ered and reinstated as if there had been no hiatus, 
as if nothing disagreeable had occurred. And 
we have seen the “state of life” in which Made- 
line had been found. ' 

“Letitia, do you go down now, and presently 
send up a nice breakfast for two — two fresh eggs 
— while I have a talk with dear Madeline.” 
Thus the old lady, who still held the reins of 
authority, although she had lost the use of her 
right hand; and Letitia, having previously re- 
hearsed the whole “talk” with her mother, and 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


85 


fearing that ‘‘too many cooks might spoil the 
broth/’ departed with meek obedience, 

“Take off your hat and jacket, my love, and 
make yourself at home. I am sure you will not 
be surprised to hear — yes, put them on the otto- 
man — that your father is alive and well, and 
returning an i??^mensely” — ^dwelling lovingly on 
the word — “rich man.” 

Madeline’s heart bounded into' her mouth, her 
face became like flame. So her presentiment 
had come true ! 

“Ah! I see you are surprised, darling: so 
were we when we got his letter, a week ago. 
Here, bring me that case, the green one on the 
little table, and I’ll read it to you at once — or 
you may read it yourself if you like, Made- 
line.” 

Madeline did as requested, picked out a foreign 
letter in a well-known hand, and sat down to 
peruse it beside Mrs. Harper’s bed. That lady, 
having assumed her spectacles for the nonce, 
scanned her late pupil’s face with keen intent- 
ness. 

This is what the letter said : 

“Royal Kangaroo Club, 

“Collins Street, Melbourne. 

‘My dear Mrs. Harper — After such a long 
silence, you will be surprised to see my writing, 
but here I am. I am afraid Madeline has been 
rather uneasy about me — and, indeed, no wonder. 
I met with some terrible losses in bank shares 
two years ago: nearly the whole of my life’s 


86 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


earnings were engulfed in an unparalleled finan- 
cial catastrophe. The anxiety and trouble all 
but killed me — threw me into a fever, from the 
effects of which I was laid up for months — many 
months, and when I again put my shoulder to 
the wheel I was determined not to write home 
until I was as rich a man as ever. I knew that 
you, who had had the care of Madeline since she 
was seven, would trust me, and everything 
would go on as usual. I had always been such 
punctual pay you would give me time for once. 
I am now, 1 am glad to say, a wealthy man. 
Some lots of land I bought years ago have turned 
up trumps — in short, gold. I am not going to 
speculate again, but am returning home a mil- 
lionaire, and Maddie shall keep house iu London, 
and hold up her head among the best. Stray 
bits of news have drifted to my ears. I heard 
a foolish story about some beggarly barrister or 
curate and her. A schoolgirl wrote it to her 
brother; but I am certain it was only girls’ tittle- 
tattle. Surely you would never allow my heiress 
to play the fool! If she did, she knows very 
well that I would disown her. I am a fond 
father in my way, and a good father, as you can 
testify, but I’ll have no pauper fortune-hunters 
or puling love affairs. A hint from you to 
Madeline, that at the least nonsense of that sort 
I marry again, and let her please herself, will 
be, at an}" rate, a stitch in time. She has had a 
good education. She can earn her bread ; but I 
know it is not necessary to continue this subject. 
You are a sensible woman; Madeline is a sen- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


87 


sible girl, if she is my daughter. And I have 
great views for her, very great views. I shall 
follow this letter in about six weeks’ time, and 
will write again before* I leave. I shall come 
by the ‘Ophir,’ Orient Line, and you and Mad- 
die can meet me in Plymouth. I inclose a draft 
on my agents for six hundred pounds, five hun- 
dred for Maddie’s schooling and outfit for two 
years, and the balance for pocket-money and a 
few new frocks, so that she may be smart when 
her old daddie .comes home.” 

Madeline paused, and shook the letter. No, 
no. draft fluttered out. 

“I have banked it,” put in Mrs. Harper, pre- 
cipitately, who had been scrutinizing every change 
in the girl’s face. “It is quite safe.” 

“And now I must wind up, hoping soon to see 
Madeline, and with love to her and compliments 
to yourself and daughters, especially the lively 
Miss Selina. 

“Yours faithfully, 

“Robert West.” 

“Well, Madeline, tell me what you think of 
that?” demanded Mrs. Harper, wiping her 
glasses. 

“I— I — am very glad of course,” she returned, 
her brain and ideas in a whirl; but now fully 
comprehending the cause of Mrs. Harper’s bland- 
ishments and welcome. 

“We are so sorry, love, that we were so hasty 


88 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


about Mr. Wynne. It was entirely Selina’s do- 
ing, I do assure you. I am most thankful to see 
— especially after your father’s letter — that you 
did not marry him after- all I” 

‘‘Not marry him,” echoed the girl, coloring 
vividly. “What do you mean?” 

“I see you are not married by your hand,” 
pointing a long finger at Madeline’s ringless 
member. “Is not that sufficient proof?” she 
asked sharply. 

Madeline was suddenly aware that she was at 
a crisis — a great moral crisis — in her life, when 
she must take action at once, an action that 
meant much. Her father’s letter, Mrs. Harper’s 
conclusion, her own dire want, all prompted the 
quick decision made on the instant. She would 
for the present temporize — at least till she had 
met her father, told him her story in her own 
way, and accomplished a full pardon. To de- 
clare, no^(; that she was a wife would be ruin — 
ruin to her, death to Laurence, for of course her 
father would cut her off with a shilling. She 
was aware that he had very strong prejudices, 
a grotesque adoration for rank and success, and 
a corresponding abhorrence of those who were 
poor, needy, and obscure; also that he was a 
man of his word. This she had gleaned out in 
Australia when but seven years of age. They 
had lived in a splendid mansion in Toorak, the 
most fashionable suburb of Melbourne, and an 
elderly reduced Englishwoman had been her 
governess. But because she had permitted-her 
to play with some children whose father was in 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


89 


difficulties, who was socially ostracized, she had 
been discharged at a week’s notice, and Made- 
line had been dispatched to England. Her 
father was peculiar — yes. In a second her 
mind was resoHed, and, with hands that shook 
as she folded up the crackling foreign notepaper, 
she reassumed the character of Miss West I 


90 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER IX 

BARGAINING 

‘‘You see, my love,” proceeded Mrs. Harper, 
in a smooth, insinuating tone, “it is not every 
one who would take you back under the circum- 
stances;” and she paused, and peered at the girl 
over her spectacles with a significant air. (The 
circumstances of five hundred pounds, thought 
her listener bitterly.) “Will you give me your 
word of honor that you have not been doing any 
thing — unbecoming — anything that — that — 
would reflect on your reputation? My dear, 
you need not look so red and indignant. I’m 
only an old woman. I mean no offense.” 

“I have done nothing to be ashamed of, or 
which I shall ever blush for or regret,” rejoined 
Madeline, impressively; “and to that I can give 
my word of honor. But, Mrs. Harper, you ask 
strange questions— and I am no longer at school. ” 

“Well, well, my dear — well, well; we did hear 
that you were in the mantle department at Mar- 
shall & Snelgrove’s. I believe there are ladies 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


V)1 


in these establishments;'’ and then she added 
craftily, ‘‘You have such a nice, tall, slight 
figure — for trying on things. You were always 
so graceful, and had such taking manners!” 

“I was not there, Mrs. Harper,” returned 
Madeline; “and I cannot tell you where I was, 
beyond that I lived with a friend, and that I was 
very poor.” ' 

“A friend, at Solferino Place?” quickly. \ 

“Yes” — with visible reluctance — “at Solferino 
Place. And now what do you want with rne^ 
Mrs. Harper?” she asked, with unexpected 
boldness. 

“Well, I wish” — clearing her throat — “and so 
does Letitia, to let bygones be bygones ; to allow 
your father to find you here, as if you had never 
been away; to hush up your escapade — for 
though, of course, I believe you — it might sound 
a little curious to him. No one knows why you 
left, excepting Selina — Mrs. Murphy. It hap- 
pened in the holidays. These girls are a new 
set, and have never heard of you ; and, even if 
they had, they would not meet Mr. West, as he 
arrives during Easter term. Do you agree to 
this?” 

“Yes,” replied Madeline, with sudden pallor, 
but a steady voice, “I agree; it will be best.” 

“That is arranged, then,” said the old diplo- 
matist, briskly. “And, now, what about the 
money? — what about that? Shall we keep the 
five hundred pounds, and give you the balance?” 

In former days Madeline would have assented 
to this proposition at once; but now her heart 


92 


MAKRIED OR SINGLE? 


beat tumultuously as she thought of Laurence 
and the baby. She must secure all she coiild for 
their sakes, and, feeling desperately nervous, she 
replied — 

‘'No, I can’t quite see that, Mrs. Harper. 
To one year’s payment and interest you are, of 
course, entitled; but the second year I worked 
for my living — worked very hard indeed. You 
can scarcely expect to take two hundred pounds, 
as well as my services— gratis.” 

But Mrs. Harper had expected it confidently, 
and this unlooked-for opposition was a blow. 
Madeline was not as nice as she used to be, and 
she must really put some searching questions to 
her respecting her absence, if she was going to 
be so horribly grasping about money ; and Mad- 
eline, blushing for very shame as she bargained 
with this old female Shylock, reluctantly yielded 
one hundred pounds for the year she had been 
pupil-teacher. It was money versus character — 
and a character is expensive. 

Mrs. Harper, on her part, undertook to ar- 
range Madeline’s past very completely, and 
Madeline felt that it must be veiled from her 
father for the present — at any rate, until Laur- 
ence was better, and able to resume work and a 
foothold on existence. 

She had assured him yesterday that she would 
steal for him if necessary. Was not this as bad, 
she asked herself, bargaining and chaffering thus 
over her father’s money, and dividing it with the 
greedy old creature at her side? However, she 
was to have one hundred and eighty pounds for 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


93 


her share. Oh, riches! Oh, what could she not 
do with that sum? 

She was to return to her friends at Splferino 
Place for three weeks — (she had struggled and 
battled fiercely for this concession, and carried 
the day)— was then to return to Harperton, and 
be subsequently escorted to Plymouth by Miss 
Harper, who would personally restore her to her 
faxher’s arms. 

After the morning’s exciting business, Made- 
line was wearied, fiushed, and had a splitting 
headache. She was not sorry to share Mrs. 
Harper’s excellent tea, and to be allowed to take 
off her dress and go and lie down in a spare room 
upstairs — a room once full, but now empty — and 
there she had a long think; and, being com- 
pletely worn out, a long, long sleep. 

After dinner — early dinner — she went cut with 
Miss Harper, and the money — her share — was 
paid to her without delay. She had stipulated 
for this. Could it be possible that it was ‘she, 
Madeline Wynne, who stood opposite to the 
cashier’s desk cramming notes and sovereigns 
into her sixpenny purse? As they pursued their 
walk, Madeline recognized a few old faces and 
many old places. She purchased a new hat, 
which she put on in the shop; and she heard, to 
her relief, that the Wolfertons had left, and gone 
to live abroad. Some former schoolfellows, now 
grown up — no young plant grows quicker than a 
schoolgirl — recognized and accosted her. These 
had been day-boarders. They mentally re- 
marked that she had turned out very different 


94 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


to what they expected, and that she looked much 
older than her age. “She was staying at Mrs. 
Harper’s, was she?” 

Before they had time to ask the hundred and 
one questions with which they were charged. 
Miss Harper prudently hurried her pupil away, 
saying, as she did so : 

“Least said, soonest mended, my dear. It’s 
well you had on your new hat! Now you had 
better get some gloves.” 

She was not quite as keen about the money as 
her mother, and was inclined — nay, anxious — to 
be amiable. Madeline West, the great Austral- 
ian heiress, had possibilities in her power. She 
was resolved to be friendly with her, and to re- 
instate her at once as the favorite pupil of former 
days, burying in oblivion the teacher interlude. 

The girls Madeline had met walked on disap- 
pointed, saying to one another : 

“Fancy that being Maddie West ! How awful 
she looks! So seedy, and so thin and careworn; 
and she is barely my age — in fact, she is a week 
younger!” 

“And so frightfully shabby,” put in another. 

“Did you see her dress — all creases?” 

“And her gloves!” (The gloves were appar- 
ently beyond description.) 

“All the same, Miss Harper was making a 
great fuss — a great deal of her. It was ‘dear’ 
this, and ‘love’ that. She is never affectionate 
for nothing. I know the old boa-constrictor so 
well. Perhaps Maddie has been left a fortune?” 
hazarded the sharpest of the party. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


95 


‘‘Her dress and jacket looked extremely like 
it/’ sneered number one. ‘‘As to her hat, I saw 
it in at Mason’s this morning— I noticed it par- 
ticularly, marked eleven and ninepence. That 
looks like being an heiress ! Oh, very much so, 
indeed!” 

The price of the hat settled the question ! 




96 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER X 

MRS. KANE BECOMES AFFECTIONATE 

Mrs. Harper would not hear of Madeline re- 
turning to London by night. Xo, it was a most 
shocking idea, and not to be entertained. She 
must remain until the next day at least, “and 
travel properly,” which meant that Miss Harper 
herself conducted the heiress to Riverside, and 
saw her off by the morning express, first-class. 
It was in vain that Madeline protested that such 
precautions were quite unnecessary. She was 
anxious to« save her fare and return third ; for, 
even with such wealth as one hundred and 
eighty pounds every shilling would be required. 
But her voice was silenced. Miss Harper carried 
the day, took her late pupil to the station, gave 
her into the charge of the guard, and even went 
so far as to present her with a two-shilling novel, 
to while away tlie journey (an attention that she 
hoped would bear fruit by-and-by). But Made“ 
line did not need it; her own thoughts were 
sufficient to absorb her whole attention as she 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


97 


traveled rapidly^ homeward. She was sensible 
of some disquieting pangs when she thought of 
Laurence. Would he be angry when he heard 
that his wife had once more assumed her maiden 
name, and pretended that she was still Madeline 
West? 

No, no; he must forgive her, when there was 
so much at stake. Her hand closed involuntarily 
on her purse, that precious purse which contained 
the first payment for the fraud she had been 
compelled to practice. About five o’clock that 
evening Madeline’s quick foot was once more 
heard ascending the stairs, and with hasty fin- 
gers she opened the sitting-room door and rushed 
into her husband’s presence. He was up and 
dressed — (at all but the worst of times he would 
insist on dragging himself out of bed and dress- 
ing) — seated at her table, laboriously doing some 
copying, with slow and shaky fingers. 

It should here be stated, in justice to Mrs. 
Harper, that she had passed Madeline under the 
harrow of searching inquiries, and elicited the 
intelligence that she made her livelihood bj^ law 
copying, and she was satisfied that it was a re- 
spectable employment 

‘‘Ah!!’ exclaimed the astute dame, “I suppose 
Mr. Wynne put that bit of work in your way, 
did he?” Fortunately for her new role, Made- 
line could truthfully reply, “No,” for it was not 
Laurence who had been the means of procuring 
this employment, such as it was, but Mr. Jessop. 

“You will give me your permanent address. 


98 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Madeline,” said Mrs. Harper, austerely. ‘^‘Tliat 
must be thoroughly understood.” 

“But you have it already, Mrs. Harper.” 

“Have you lodged there long?” she asked, 
feeling confident that no well-known counsel at 
the bar could outdo her in crafty questions. 

“Fourteen months,” said her pupil, rather 
shortly. 

“Then you must have been pretty comforta- 
ble?” 

To which Madeline evasively replied that she 
had been quite happy. (No thanks to Mrs. 
Kane.) 

And Mrs. Harper was satisfied. She had 
found out all she wished to know. Madeline’s 
past was as clear as daylight now ! Was it? 

And now behold Madeline at home once more, 
flushed with excitement, exhilarated by the 
change, by the money in her purse, and with 
her bright eyes, bright color, and new hat, mak- 
ing quite a cheerful and brilliant appearance be- 
fore the amazed and languid invalid. 

He was looking very ill to-day. These close, 
stifling rooms and sleepless nights were grad- 
ually sapping his scanty stock of vitality. 

“Baby is asleep,” she said, glancing eagerly 
into the cradle. “And now I am going to tell 
you all about it,” taking off her hat and gloves, 
and pushing aside her husband’s writing mate- 
rials, filling him up a glass of port, fetching a bis- 
cuit, and taking a seat opposite to him, all within 
the space of three minutes. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


90 


‘‘You have good news, Maddie, I see,” he re- 
marked as he looked at her, and noticed her con- 
dition of suppressed excitement, and her sparkling 
eyes. 

“Good? — news, yes; and money!” pulling out 
her purse and displaying thick rolls of Bank of 
England notes, and some shining sovereigns. 
“Oh, Laurence dear, I feel so happy, all but in 
one little corner of my conscience, and I’m afraid 
you’ll be angry with me — about something — that 
is the one drawback ! I don’t know how to be- 
gin to tell you — best begin with the worst. I’ve 
gone back to being Madeline West once more; 
they don’t know that I am married.” 

“Madeline!” he ejaculated sternly. “You 
are not in earnest?” 

“Now, dear, don’t; don’t speak till you hear 
all. You know how I left, how I traveled with 
the price of my rings. I arrived, was shown up 
into Mrs. Harper’s own room — where, in old 
times, girls were sent for to have bad news broken 
to them. She has had a stroke. Miss Selina is 
married, and Mr. Murphy is gone. The school 
is going down. So when Mrs. Harper had a let- 
ter from my father, inclosing five hundred pounds 
for two years’ expenses, and one hundred for me 
for pocket-money, it was a most welcome sur- 
prise, and they were anxious to find me, of 
course” — pausing for a second to take breath. 
“Don’t interrupt me, she pleaded, with 

outstretched hands. “Mrs. Harper gave me 
papa’s letter to read. He had lost money, he 
had been ill for a long time, he had no wish to 


100 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


write until he was again a rich man. Now he 
is a millionaire, and is coming home immedi- 
ately, expecting to find me still at the Harpers’, 
and still Miss West, I am to be a great heiress. 
I am to keep his house; and, Laurence, dear, he 
had heard a hint of you. I know it was that 
detestable gossip, Maggie Wilkinson. She had 
a cousin in an office in Melbourne, and used to' 
write him volumes. And, oh, he says dreadful 
things — I mean my father — if I marry a poor 
man, as he has such — such — views. That was 
the word; and if I disappoint him, I am to be 
turned from his door penniless, to earn my own 
bread!” 

“As you are doing now,” observed her list- 
ener, bitterly. 

“Yes!” with a gesture of despair; “but what 
is it — for you and me and baby— what are nine 
shillings a week? Then Mrs. Harper exclaimed, 
with great relief, ‘I see you are not married!’ 
pointing to my hand; and it all came into my 
mind like a flash. I did not say I was not mar- 
ried, I uttered no actual untruth; but I allowed 
her to think so. The temptation was too great; 
there was the wealth for the taking — money that 
would bring you health. I said I would steal 
for you, Laurence; but it was not stealing, it 
was, in a sense, my own money, intended for my 
use. Are you very angry with pie for what I 
have done, dear?” she wound up rather timidly. 

“No, -Madeline. I see you could not help your- 
self, poor child, with starvation staring you in 
the face, and a sick husband and infant to sup- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


10 ] 


port! Your father has views for you, has he? 
I wonder how this view” — indicating himself 
and the cradle — “would strike him. As far as 
I am concerned, it won’t be for long, and your 
father will forgive you; but the child, Maddie— 
on his account your marriage — ” 

“Laurence!” she almost screamed, “don’t! 
Do you think the child would make up for you? 
Am I not doing all this for you — acting a part, 
clothing myself in deceit, for you — only for you? 
Do not tell me that it is all to go for nothing ! If 
I thought that, I would give it up at once. My 
sole object is to gain time, and money, until you 
are yourself once more, and able to earn our liv- 
ing at your profession. Then, having done all 
to smooth the way, I shall confess my marriage 
to my father. If he renounces me, I shall still 
have you, and you will have me. But, without 
this money to go on with, to get the best advice, 
plenty of nourishment, and change of air, I don’t 
know what I should do?” And she surveyed 
him with a pair of truly tragic eyes. “It has 
come to me. like a reprieve to a condemned crim- 
inal. Say, Laurence, that I have done right. 
Oh, please say it!” putting out her hands, with 
a pretty begging gesture. 

“No, dearest Maddie, I cannot say that; but 
I will say that, under the circumstances, i t was 
a great, an almost irresistible temptation.” 

“Then, at least, say you are not angry with 
me.” 

‘ ‘ I can say no to that from the bottom of my 
heart. How can I be angry, when I myself am 


102 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


the cause — when it has all been done for me? 
The only thing is, that there may be difficulties 
later on,” looking into the future with his prac- 
tical lawyer’s eye. There may be difficulties 
and a desperate entanglement in store for you, 
my pretty, reckless Maddie. You know the 
lines — 

“ ‘ Oh, what a tangled web we weave, 

When once we practice to deceive.’ ” 

‘‘At any rate, I shall make the best of my 
web,” said his wife, springing up. “I am going 
to take Mr. Jessop into my confidence.” 

“Are you? Well, I suppose it will be best.” 

“Yes, of course it will; I am going to write 
to him now. The very first doctor in London is 
to come and see you ; and, as soon as you can 
be moved, you go into the country — that I insist 
upon.” 

“I go into the country, do I?” with a grim 
smile. He was saying to himself, as he looked 
at her eager anxious face, that the only country 
he would ever go into now would be down to 
the old burying- place of the Wynne family. At 
least his relations could not refuse him admission 
there, or close that door — the door of the family 
vault — in his face. 

And when he was at rest, under the walls of 
the old gray church, Madeline, as a widow, 
would be as much her father’s heiress and house- 
keeper as if she had never been a wife. In fact, 
her days of misfortune would enhance her do- 
mestic worth, at least she had learned the value 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


103 


of money! As for himself, he was reduced to 
such a low ebb, mentally and physically", that 
death would be a release. To return to life — 
with a capital L — and to take up his heavy load, 
and plod on and on like an omnibus horse, was 
not an alluring prospect. Madeline’s future was 
safe, and he would rather be under the green 
sod, with all the dead and gone Wynnes — when, 
after life’s fitful fever, they slept well. 

It will be seen from this that Mr. Wynne was 
in a bad way — too weak, too hopeless, even to 
care to struggle back to health. But Madeline 
had now sufficient energy for two. Hope per- 
vaded her young veins, decision and prompt 
action were its outcome, and money was 
power. 

In the first place, she scribbled a hasty note to 
Mr. Jessop, and begged him to call on them that 
evening without fail. This she dispatched by a 
little boy, paying a precious sixpence to save 
time. Then she descended like a whirlwind 
upon Mrs. Kane, and begged to see her for a 
moment alone. She had made a bold resolve — 
there was no alternative. She was about to take 
Mrs. Kane — the insolent, the red-faced, the in- 
credulous — into her confidence. She had Hob- 
son’s choice, and, in fact, was at her wits’ end. 
Supposing inquiries were made, supposing Mrs. 
Harper wrote and asked awkward questions, and 
who so ready to answer them — unless previously 
prepared, previously bribed, previously flattered, 
by being let into the secret — as Mrs. Kane? 

‘‘Mrs. Kane,” said Madeline, knocking at that 


104 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


lady’s door, the door of her own sanctum, “I 
have something to say to yon in private.” 

“Bless me, Mrs. W^mne, how white your face 
is!” exclaimed the other tartly, having been just 
about to sit down to her supper — tripe and bot- 
tled stout, “Whatever is the matter noiv? Not 
the bailiffs — that I do hope.” 

“No, no, no; quite the contrary.” Then, 
struck by a happy thought, “How much do we 
owe you, Mrs. Kane?” 

“Ah, owe me!” rather staggered. “Let’s 
see, thirteen weeks, at ten shillings, is six pounds 
ten; then the coal — Here,” making a raid on 
a rickety writing-table, “I have it all down,” 
searching among some papers. “Yes, here it 
is. Coal, one pound one, kindling wood, 
matches, postage on a parcel — total, eight 
pounds, thirteen and sevenpence - halfpenny. 
Are you going to settle it?” she asked briskly. 

“Yes, I am,” replied Madeline, now drawing 
out her full, her overflowing purse. What cour- 
age, what confidence were conferred by the very 
feel of its contents ! Mrs. Kane gazed at it with 
eyes as distended as those of a bull frog, and 
with her mouth half open. “A ten-pound note, 
Mrs. Kane.” And Mrs. Wynne tendered one 
as she spoke. 

“So I see,” in a milder key. “I’ll get you 
change, and, though I says it as shouldn’t, it’s 
not everybody, you know yourself, who would 
have — ” 

“Yes, quite true, I know all that already, 
thank you, Mrs. Kane. Never mind the change 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


105 


just now, it can go toward the milk bill. What 
1 wanted to speak to you about is to tell you a 
family secret — which concerns me.’’ 

‘‘A family secret! Laws, Mrs. Wynne!” 
suddenly seating herself with a plunge, and 
looking at her lodger with a countenance of 
gratified anticipation, “whatever can it be?” 

“Promise, on your solemn word of honor, not 
to tell any one.” 

“Oh, I’m as safe as a church; no one will get 
anything out of me” — mentally resolving to tell 
her niece and husband without any churlish de- 
lay — “unless it’s something not on the square.” 

“It is quite on the square; you need not fear. 
Once I was a Miss West.” 

“So you told me,” nodding her head. 

“I was at school near Riverside for a good 
many years. My father is an Australian mer- 
chant — very rich.” 

“Oh, indeed!” in a comfortable tone. 

“But for two years he had not been heard of, 
we thought that he was dead, and I became a 
teacher at school. Mr. Wynne saw me there, 
and paid me attention, which displeased Mrs. 
Harper very much. I was sent away, and we 
were married. We have been here ever since.” 

“So you have,” agreed Mrs. Kane, as much 
as to say, “And it’s highly to your credit!” 

“Well, now my father has written at last; he 
is coming home, immensely rich. He has not 
heard of my marriage.” 

“Laws, you don’t say so!” in a tone of ad- 
miration and astonishment, 


106 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


one has heard of it, you see. I had no 
friends. And if my father knew that I had 
married a poor man, he would be dreadfully 
angry — at least at first, I went down to Mrs. 
Harper’s; she showed me his letter. She thinks 
I am not married, for,” holding up her bare left 
hand, pawned my rings to pay my railway 
fare.” 

“Oh, my goodness! Did you really, now?” 

“And she took it for granted that I was still 
Miss West. I confessed nothing. I told her I 
had lived here for fourteen months, that I worked 
at law stationery, and was very poor, and she 
was apparently satisfied; but, all the same, I 
firmly believe she will write and ask you all 
about me. Neither she nor my father must 
know of my marriage—yeif. And now, are you 
quite prepared? I am Miss West, you know, 
who has lived with you since last January year. 
You understand, Mrs. Kane?” 

“Oh, yes'!” with an expressive wink. “A 
nice, quiet, respectable young lady — never go- 
ing nowhere, keeping no company, and I only 
wishes T had a dozen like her. I’ll give it her 
all pat, you be quite certain,” said her landlady, 
rubbing her bare fat arms with the liveliest de- 
light at her own rdZe in the piece. “Bnt how 
about Mr. Wynne and the baby?” she asked 
slyly. 

“You need not mention them. It will be all 
right later on, when I see my father and prepare 
him, you know. But now I am obliged to keep 
him in the dark. Mrs. Harper would not have 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


107 

given me my money had she known. It’s only 
for a short time- that I am forced to resume my 
old name, and I assure you, Mrs. Kane, that 
it’s not very pleasant.” 

“Ay, well now, I think it’s rather a joke — 
something like a play at the Adelphi, where in 
the end the father comes in and blesses the young 
couple, and they all live together, happy as sand- 
boys, ever after. That will be your case, you’ll 
see ! ’ ’ emphatically. 

“I hope so, but I doubt it,” returned her 
lodger. “I will be content if my husband re- 
covers his health. Money is nothing in compari- 
son to health.” 

“Ay, maybe so; but money is a great com- 
fort all the same,” said Mrs. Kane, squeez- 
ing the note affectionately in her hand, and 
wondering how many more of the same qual- 
ity were in Mrs. Wynne’s purse — “a great 
comfort!” 

“Well then, now you know all, Mrs. Kane,” 
said the other, rising, “I can depend on you? 
You will be our friend in this matter, and, be- 
lieve me, you will be no loser.” 

“Certainly you can’t say fairer nor that, can 
you, ma’am? — though, as far as I’m concerned, 
I’m always delighted to oblige a lady for noth - 
ing, and I always fancied you from the first time 
I saw you in the hall, and you knocked over that 
pot of musk, and so Maria will tell you. As for 
the secret, wild horses would not tear it from 
me; and I’m that interested in you, as I couldn’t 
express to you, and alius was — you ask Maria — 


108 MAREIED OR SINGLE ? 

just as if you was my own daughter. I can’t 
say fairer nor that, can I?” 

And opening the door with a wide flourish, 
she waved Madeline through, who, rather stag- 
gered by this unexpected compliment, passed 
quickly into the lobby, and with a farewell nod, 
hurried back to her family in the upper regions, 
and set about preparing tea. She also made 
preparations for the expected visit of their chief 
counselor, Mr. Henry Jessop. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


109 


CHAPTER XI 

CHANGE OF AIR AND SCENE 

Mr. Jessop duly arrived, and found, to his 
amazement, that his fish and fruit had been fore- 
stalled; and there were other and yet greater 
surprises in store for him. 

He listened to Madeline’s plainly told tale, 
with his glass • rigidly screwed into his eye, his 
mouth pinched up as if he had an unusually in- 
tricate ‘^case” under his consideration. 

He never once interrupted her, ^ until she 
brought her recital to an end, and she, in the 
heat and haste of her narrative, had permitted 
him to know more of their poverty than he had 
dreamed of. 

The Wynnes were as proud as they were poor; 
the extremity of their straits was kept for their 
own exclusive experience. Mr. Jessop gave an 
involuntary little gasp as he listened to the rev- 
elation about the pawnbroker, the history of the 
miniature, and medals, and rings. 

‘‘By the way, I am going to redeem them the 
first thing to-morrow !” said Madeline hurriedly. 


110 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘No, no, no, my dear Mrs. Wynne; such places 
for you are simply out of the question. I will 
go,’^ protested Mr. Jessop, who had never been 
inside such an institution in his life. 

“No, certainly not; they know me quite well 
at Cohen’s, and you are a stranger. I don’t 
mind one bit, as it will be for the last time; and 
why should it be more out of the question no w 
than yesterday? Does money make such a differ- 
ence in a few hours?” (Money sometimes makes 
a difference in a few minutes.) 

On the whole, Mr. Jessop approved. The 
scheme was rash, romantic, risky; but it was 
the only plan he could see for the present. 

Mrs. Wynne must take her father in hand and 
talk him over. “He did not think she would 
have much trouble,” he added consolingly, as 
ho looked at her pretty, animated face; and he 
told himself that the old fellow must have indeed 
a rocky heart if he could resist that. And now 
for business, for action, for a council of war. 

In a quarter of an hour it was all settled, so 
unanimous were Madeline and Mr. Jessop. 

A great doctor, whose specialty was low fever, 
was to be summoned the next morning. If he 
consented, Mr. Jessop was to come in the after- 
noon with a very, very easy brougham, and take 
the invalid at once to Waterloo Station, and by 
rail and carriage to a farmhouse that he knew 
of, about fifty miles from London, where there 
was pure air, pure milk, and every incentive to 
health. The baby and Madeline were to follow 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Ill 


the next day, after everything had been packed 
up and stored with Mrs. Kane, who was now 
amenable to anything, and amiable to imbecility. 

The prescribed journey did take place by lux- 
urious and easy stages, and actually the next 
night Mr. Wynne passed under the red-tiled roof 
of the farm in Hampshire. He was worn out by 
fatigue, and slept well — slept till the crowing of 
the cocks and the lowing of the cows had an- 
nounced, long previously, that the day was com- 
menced for them. He sat in a lattice-paned 
sitting-room, looking into a sunny, old-fashioned 
garden (filled in summer with hollyhocks, sunr 
fiowers, roses, and lavender, and many sweet- 
scented fiowers well beloved of bees), and felt 
better already, and made an excellent early din- 
ner, although his portly hostess declared, as she 
carried the dishes into the kitchen, “that the 
poor sick gentleman — and ay, deary me, he do 
look bad— had no more appetite than a canary!’’ 

The sick gentleman’s wife and baby appeared 
on the scene in the course of the afternoon, “a 
rare tall, pretty young lady she were,” quoth the 
farm folk. A country girl took charge of the 
infant, who, as long as he had plenty of milk in 
his bottle, and that bottle in his clutch, was 
fairly peaceable and contented with things in 
general; and was much taken with Mrs. Holt’s 
cap frills, with her bright tin dishes on the 
kitchen shelves, and with various other new and 
strange objects. 

Madeline was thankful to get into the peace- 
ful country, with its placid green fields and bud- 


112 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


ding hedges; to live in Farmer Holt’s old red- 
roofed house, with the clipped yew trees in the 
sunny garden, and the big pool at the foot of it 
overshadowed by elder trees. Thankful to enjoy 
this haven of rest, away from murky London, 
with its roar of hurrying existence and deaf- 
ening street traffic that never seemed to cease, 
night or day, in the neighborhood of Soiferino 
Place. 

Here the lusty crowing of rival cocks, the low- 
ing of cows, the noise of the churn, were the only 
sounds that broke a silence that was as impres- 
sive as it was refreshing. All things have an 
end. Madeline’s three weeks’ leave soon came to 
a conclusion; and she most reluctantly tore her- 
self away from the farm, the evening before she 
was due at Harperton. How happy she was 
here! Why must she go? 

Laurence was better, a great deal better. He 
walked in the garden, leaning on her arm gt 
first, then in tbe lanes with no support but his 
stick. He was more hopeful, more like his 
former self —he was actually engaged in tying 
flies for Farmer Holt, as Madeline watched him 
wistfully, with her chin on her hand. She loved 
the farm itself — the farmer’s wife (kind Mrs. 
Holt, with a heart to match her ample person). 
The sweet little chickens, and ducks, and calves, 
and foals, were all delightful to Madeline, who, 
active as ever, had helped to feed the former, 
ledrned to make butter, to make griddle-cakes, 
to milk, and was on foot from six in the morn- 
ing until nine o’clock at night, and had recovered 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


113 


the look of youth and well-being which had so 
long been missing from her appearance. 

The farmer himself was to drive her to the 
station in his dog-cart, and she and Laurence 
strolled down the lane together to say a few last 
words ere they parted —for how long? 

Laurence was hopeful now, and Madeline was 
tearfully despondent. He was recovering, and 
felt more self-reliance every day. He would 
soon, please God, be back at work. 

“I don’t know what has come over me, Laur- 
ence,” said his wife, as they came to the gate 
and a full stop. I feel so low, so depressed, 
something tells me that I shall not see you again 
for ageSy'^ her eyes filling with tears. “And I 
feel so nervous about meeting papa,” and her 
lips quivered as she spoke. 

“Nonsense, Maddie! you must never meet 
trouble half way. Your father cannot but be 
pleased with you, and when you tell him about 
me — ” 

“Oh, but I won’t, I dare not at first,” she 
interrupted hastily. “It all comes back to me 
now. The days in that big house in Toorak, and 
how I used to be afraid when I heard his voice 
in the entrance-hall — his voice when he was an- 
gry. I used to run away and hide under a 
bed !” 

“Nevertheless, you must tell him, all the 
same; you are not a child now. And when you 
point out to him that his silence for two years 
and a half left you to a certain extent your own 
mistress, and that your unlucky marriage was 


114 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


the result of the reins being thrown on your 
neck — 

“Now, Laurence!” putting her hand on his 
arm, “you know I won’t listen to that; and if 
the worst comes to the worst, I can run away 
againV'" 

“So you can; and I think in another fortnight 
I shall be fit for — for harness. Jessopsays— ” 

“If Mr. Jessop says anything so wicked, he 
and I will quarrel!” exclaimed Madeline, indig- 
nantly. . “You are not to do anything for three 
months; there is plenty of money left yet.” 

“Yes; but, Maddie,” producing some notes, 
“you know you can’t appear before your father 
like that,” pointing to her dress. “You will 
need a couple of decent gowns; and I don’t think 
much of that hat. You must take forty pounds, 
without any nonsense, you know.” 

“No, I won’t,” pushing it away impatiently. 
“I don’t require it.” 

“But you do, and must take it, and do as I 
desire you — goodness knows it’s little enough! 
Promise me to spend every farthing on your- 
self. You ought to be respectably dressed when 
you meet your father. Where is your common 
sense? And naturally he will ask — Where is the 
hundred pounds he gave you for new frocks? 
Remember, Maddie, if he is very angry, you can 
always come back to me” — kissing her. “And 
now that I am not so down on my luck, I feel 
anxious to work for you, and the sooner the bet- 
ter; and the sooner you return the better. Here 
is Holt,” as the farmer, driving a slashing long- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


115 


tailed colt, came quickly round the corner into 
view. ^'He is driving that crazy four-year-old ! 
I hope he will take care of you. Mind you leave 
her there, safely, farmer,” as his nimble wife 
climbed up into the lofty dog-cart. ^‘Good-by, 
Maddie; be sure you write to-morrow.” Step- 
ping aside as they dashed through the gate, car- 
ried forward by the impatient chestnut. 

Madeline looked back, and waved her hand- 
kerchief. Yes, he was still standing gazing after 
them, even when they had gone quite a distance; 
finally she applied the handkerchief to her eyes. 

‘‘Kow, don’t take on so, ma’am,” murmured 
the farmer, his eyes fixed on the colt’s quivering 
ears. “We’ll take good care of him! He is a 
real nice young gentleman; and as to baby, I 
don’t see how the missis will ever part with him. 
You cheer up! Ain’t you a-going to meet your 
father?” 

“Yes, Mr. Holt,” she faltered; “but I may 
as well tell you that he has not seen me for more 
than twelve years. He — I— we thought he was 
dead. He does not know that I am married!” 

“Oh, great gooseberries!” ejaculated her list- 
ener, emphatically. “What a taking he’ll be 
in!” 

“No, and he is not to know just yet. I am 
Miss West, not Mrs. Wynne, until I have paved 
the way. I’ve told your wife ail about it; she 
knows. ” 

“I don’t see what your father can have to say 
ag’in Mr. . Wynne?” said Holt, stoutly. “He is 
a gentleman. The king himself is no more.” 


116 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘Ah, yes; but he has no money,” sighed 
Madeline. 

“Maybe he has brains; and them does just as 
well. Don’t let your father come between you 
— you know the Bible says, ‘As — ’ ” 

“Mr. Holt!” she exclaimed, flushing indig- 
nantly, “do you think I would ever desert Laur- 
ence? No, not for fifty fathers. No, not if my 
father came all the way from London on his 
knees would I ever give up Laurence and baby, 
or forget them for one single hour!” 

“Nay, I’m sure you wouldn’t, excuse me, 
ma’am. But, you see, your father’s very rich, 
and you are just wonderful pretty, and when the 
old gent — meaning no offense—has you living in 
a kind of palace, with servants, and carriages and 
’osses, and tricked out in dress and jewels, and 
every one pushing and jostling one another to 
tell you what a grand and beautiful lady you be 
— why, maybe, then you won’t be so keen for 
coming back ; you know it would be only human 
nature — at least,” cooll}^ correcting himself — 
“woman’s natur.” 

“Well, Mr. Holt,” she returned rather stiffly, 
“time will tell. I cannot say more than that,” 
unintentionally quoting from Mrs. Kane. “I 
know myself that I shall come back, and soon. 
Remember,” stopping when she had jumped 
down, and holding his Jbony hand tightly in both 
of hers, “remember,” she repeated, looking up 
into his honest, rugged face, with dim and wdst- 
ful eyes, “I leave them in your charge. Don’t 
let Laurence overtire himself — don’t let him walk 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


117 


too far. Don’t let the baby have a halfpenny to 
play with again — or the toasting-fork. And, oh, 
I must go! Remember, above all, that I shall 
soon return.” 

Exit Miss W est, running to take her ticket and 
claim her luggage; and Farmer; Holt, fearing 
the effect of the train, for the first time, on his 
rampant colt, prudently turned his head back 
toward the cool green lanes without any dan- 
gerous delay. 


118 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XII 
“she will do!” 

Madeline, having arrived in London, drove 
direct to No. 2, and spent one more night under 
Mrs. Kane’s roof, where she was received with 
open arms, and proudly shown a letter marked, 
“Private and confidential,” and signed by the 
neat and respectable signature of “Letitia 
Harper.” 

“ J answered her! Ay, my word, that I did !” 
cried Mrs. Kane, triumphantly. '‘She’ll not 
come poking her nose after you again. I knew 
Miss West for a long time, I said, and nothing 
to her discredit. She was a most excellent, re- 
liable young lady — who kept herself to lierself : 
and should I mention as Miss Harper had kindly 
referred to me? That wor a poser, I can tell 
you! Back came a letter telling me on no ac- 
count to say a word to Miss AVest, and inclosing 
a postal order for ten shillings for my trouble! 
That was a rare joke! the trouble was a pleas- 
ure. And how is Mr. Wynne? and how is the 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


119 


dear baby?” continued Mrs. Kane, whose speech 
and affection were alike at high tide. 

It was evident to Madeline herself that she 
must get some new clothes. She was not even 
wearing out the remains of'her trousseau — never 
having had one. What would her father say to 
her faded cotton, and still more shabby serge? 
Even the eleven-and-ninepenny hat was now 
passe. Knowing, as he did, too, that she had 
the means to dress differently ! She must spend 
money on her wardrobe without delay. Accord- 
ingly, after breakfast, she sallied forth, and 
went to a first-class establishment where a great 
sale was in its first frenzy. Here, among a mob 
of well -dressed ladies, she struggled for standing 
room, and waited for attendance, and saw dress 
after dress on which she had set her heart 
snatched away and sold. After patient endur- 
ance of heat, tempers, rudeness, and unblushing 
selfishness, she secured the attention of a har- 
assed girl, who, perhaps feeling that she was 
even such a one as herself, assisted her to choose 
a neat covert coating, a tailor-made coat and 
skirt — a model costume of crepon, with immense 
sleeves and a profusion of jet and black satin 
trimmings, also a black gauze evening gown — a 
oiice-exquisite garment, but now shockingly 
tumbled by ruthless hands, though it was a 
“Paris pattern.” 

These, with a smart silk blouse, a picture-hat, 
a cape, shoes, handkerchiefs, veils, and gloves, 
swallowed up twenty-five pounds. Then she re- 
turned with her parcels in a hansom, displayed 


120 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


the contents (by request) to Mrs. Kane, and 
spent her evening in altering the bodices and 
packing her trunk : it was not very full. It did 
not need any one to come and sit on the top and 
press the lock together. Kext morning she was 
en route to Riverside, and that same evening in 
Mrs. Harper’s arms! 

Mrs. Harper and her daughter were delighted 
to see her. The house was empty ; the girls had 
gone home for the Easter holidays, and they 
would be very cozy and comfortable. They 
asked many veiled and clever questions anent 
her money. What had she done with it? Surely 
she had not spent it all? How much was the 
tailor-made? How much was the black? But 
she gave them no satisfactory answer. That 
was her affair, and not in the bond. 

Days passed, and yet no sign of Mr. West, 
and Mrs. Harper was becoming a little impatient 
and irritable. Could he mean to disappear for a 
second time? What was she to think? 

Meanwhile Madeline wrote to the farm daily, 
posting the letters herself. Here is one of them 
as a specimen : 

‘‘My dear Laurence —No news yet. So 
glad to get your letters. I call for them every 
day. It looks funny to see nothing but W. on 
the envelope, but it would never do to put West, 
much less Wynne. It makes me very happy to 
hear that you and baby are getting on so well 
and are making the best of this lovely weather. 
How I wish I was back with you — ten — fifty 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


121 


times a day — strolling about the lanes and fields 
among the lambs and primroses, instead of being 
cooped up here, in this hot, dusty suburb. You 
must not do too much! How dare you walk to 
the top of Brown wood Hill! It is just four 
times too far. How could the Holts allow you 
to be so foolish? But I’m afraid you don’t mind 
them. You ask what I am doing? I am try- 
ing hard to make believe that I am Madeline 
West once more. Don’t be shocked, my dear 
Laurence, but at times I succeed admirably, 
especially when I sit down to an hour’s practic- 
ing on the schoolroom piano. I am getting up 
my music and singing again, and working very 
hard, so that my father won’t be disappointed as 
far as my voice is concerned. I have looked 
over the new books that the girls had last half 
in the first class — horrible essays and lectures 
and scientific articles — about the glacial periods, 
and shooting stars, such as I abhor, and you 
love; but I know that I ought to read up, for I 
am a shameful ignoramus. I, however, enjoy 
rubbing up my French, and have devoured sev- 
eral most delicious books by Gyp. . Miss Harper 
lent them to me. She said, now that I had left 
school, I might read them. I asked her — just 
to see how she would look — if she had any of 
Emile Zola’s. I had heard so much of them. 
She nearly fainted, and said, ‘My dear, you 
must never even mention that man’s name!^ I 
have learned to dress my hair iir the new style. 
I’ve gone shopping with Miss Harper. Alto- 
gether I’ve been very busy, and when I sit in 


122 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


my old place at meal- times, and stare at the 
familiar wall-paper, and familiar cups and 
saucers, and when I listen to the Harpers’ well- 
known little sayings and turns of speech, when 
I look out of the windows, or sit alone in the 
schoolroom, as I used formerly to do in holiday 
times, I honestly declare that J feel as if all 
about you was a dream, and that 1 cannot bring 
myself to realize that I have ever left school at 
all. You see I am naturally a very adaptable 
creature; I drop into a groove at once, and ac- 
commodate myself to circumstances. For in- 
stance, Mr. Holt said I was born to be a farmer’s 
wife! I have lived here for so many, many 
years that I fall straight back into my old place. 
Then I rouse up and go off to the post-office, 
when the second post is due, and receive one of 
your welcome letters ; and I know that I am not 
dreaming, but that I am actually married.' Oh, 
Laurence, I sometimes look at the Harpers and 
say to myself — If they knew! I wish that this 
waiting was over! I wish my father would 
come ! This delay makes me so nervous and so 
jumpy. It’s like sitting in a dentist’s drawing- 
room! I sincerely hope that anticipation will 
prove to be the worst part of the business. Miss 
Harper is coming. I hear her heavy step! No 
— I breathe again. Only fancy, she asked me 
yesterday, with one of her old sharp looks, whom 
I was always writing to? and I was fortunate to 
have so many friends — such wonderful corre- 
spondents! With a kind of sneer, then, she 
said, ‘I’m going out, and I may as well post 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


123 


your letter/ but I need not tell you that I de- 
clined her amiable offer, and posted it myself. 
You say that baby screams at night, and must 
be consigned to an outhouse, if he continues to 
make night hideous. How innuman of you, 
Laurence, to write such horrid things, even in 
joke! Do you think he could possibly be miss- 
ing ine^ or is this a foolish idea with respect to 
an infant of five months old? Ask Mrs. Holt 
to feel his gums. Perhaps it is a tooth? And 
now good-by, with many kisses to him, and kind 
remembrances to the Holts. 

'H am, your loving wife, 

Very shortly after this letter was dispatched 
Mrs. Harper received a telegram from the agents 
to say that the ‘‘Ophir’’ was expected at Ply- 
mouth the next afternoon. 

What a fuss ensued, what rushing and run- 
ning and packing, and calling for twine and 
luggage labels, and leather straps and sand- 
wiches, on the part of an excited spinster, who 
was enchanted at the prospect of a jaunt down 
to Devonshire — all expenses paid. Once fairly 
off, and away from her own familiar beat, she 
was little better than a child. It was not Miss 
Harper who looked after Madeline, but Madeline 
who took care of her. At every big station she 
was seized with a panic, and called out, ‘‘Porter, 
where are we now? How long do we stop? Do 
we change? Is the luggage all right?” Her 
fussy flight to the refreshment-rooms, and fran- 


124 


MARHIED OR SINGLE? 


tic dashes back to the carriage — usually the 
wrong one-^was amusing to her fellow-travel- 
ers, but not to Madeline; and, besides this, her 
shrill and constant chatter about ‘‘your father,” 
“I do hope the ‘Ophir’ won’t be late,” “she is a 
splendid steamer, 10,000-horse power,” “and I 
hope they have had a good passage,” made her 
former pupil feel a keen desire to say something 
cross, knowing that Miss Harper imagined that 
she was impressing the other inmates of the 
carriage, but in reality was making herself 
supremely ridiculous. 

Madeline was thankful when they were safely 
housed (luggage and all) in the best hotel in 
Plymouth. Miss Harper had only forgotten her 
umbrella in the train, and lost a * considerable 
share of her temper in consequence, but a good 
dinner and a good night’s rest made this all 
right, and she wore a smiling face as she and 
her charge and many other people went down 
the next morning to board the newly-arrived 
Orient Liner “Ophir.” 

To a stranger it was a most bewildering scene, • 
and Miss Harper and Madeline stared about them 
helplessly; but of course the new arrivals were 
readily singled out by the passengers, and Mr. 
West had no hesitation whatever in promptly 
selecting the prettiest girl who had come up the 
side as his own daughter. 

It would have been a severe blow to his pene- 
tration and self-esteem had he been wrong, but it 
so happened that he was right. 

And now, before introducing him to Madeline, 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


125 


let us pause and take a little sketch of Robert 
West, millionaire, who had made considerable 
capital out of the fact, and taken the lead socially 
during the recent voyage, from whist and deck- 
quoits to the usual complimentary letter to the 
captain. He is a man of fifty-five, or a little 
more, short, spare, dapper, with a thin face, hair 
between fair and gray, quick bright hazel eyes, 
a carefully trimmed short beard, and waxed mus- 
tache. There are a good many deep wrinkles 
about his eyes, and when he raises his cap he no 
longer looks (as he does otherwise, and at a short 
distance) a man of five-and- thirty, but his full 
age, for we perceive that his head is as bald as 
a billiard ball. (N.B.— His photographs are in- 
variable taken in his hat.) He is dressed in the 
most approved manner, and by the best tailor in 
Melbourne ; a fat little nugget hangs from his 
watch-chain ; a. perennial smile adorns his face, 
although he has a singularly hard and suspicious 
eye. His history and antecedents may be summed 
up in a few sentences : His father, an English 
yeoman of a respectable old stock, committed 
forgery, and was transported to Port Philip in 
1823; he got a ticket-of -leave, acquired land, 
squatted, married in Port Philip, now Victoria. 
His success was fitful, owing to drought, scab, 
and the many other evils to which an Australian 
settler is heir. However, he gave his son a fairly 
good education in England. He desired him to 
make a figure as a gentleman. To this end he 
pinched and struggled and scraped, and finally 
sent Robert down to Melbourne with a certain 


126 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


sum of money, and a stern determination to grap- 
ple with and conquer fortune. Privately Robert 
despised his horny-handed old father, the- ex-con- 
vict. He hated a squatter’s life — loathed din- 
goes, dampers, buck-jumpers, and wool, and he 
soon fell into a comfortable berth in a land- 
agent’s office, and being steady, capable, hard- 
headed (and luird-hearted), prospered rapidly; 
in his young days everything in Melbourne was 
of Tropical growth. 

He married a veritable hot-house flower — his 
employer’s only daughter — a pretty, indolent, 
excitable, extravagant creature, with French 
blood in her veins, who carried him up a dozen 
rungs of the social ladder, and brought him a 
fortune. Her house -in Toorak — her splendid 
dresses, entertainments, and equipages were the 
talk and envy of her neighbors and sex; she was 
in with the Government House set, and she lived 
in an incessant round of gayety, a truly brilliant 
butterfly. 

After six years of married life, she died of con- 
sumption; and her widower was not inconsol- 
able. He kept on the big house, he frequented 
his club, he heaped up riches, he gambled with 
selections as others do with cards; he was not 
behind-hand in the great land boom which led 
to that saturnalia of wild speculation which 
demoralized the entire community. Suburban 
lands were forced up to enormous prices — a thou- 
sand times their value; people bought properties 
in the morning and sold them in the afternoon at 
an advance of thousands of pounds. New suburbs, 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


127 


new banks, new tenements sprang up like mush- 
rooms, under, the influence of adventurous build- 
ing societies, and every one was making an enor- 
mous fortune — on paper. 

When the gigantic bubble burst, the conse- 
quences were terrible, involving the ruin of thou- 
sands. Robert West had seen that the crash 
must come, but believed that he would escape. 
He tempted fortune too rashly. Just a few more 
thousands, and he would sell out; but his greed 
was his bane. He had not time to stand from 
under when the whole card house toppled over 
and his fortunes fell. 

He was left almost penniless : the banks had 
collapsed, land and estate was unsalable. He 
was at his wits’ end. He seriously contemplated 
suicide, but after all decided to see the thing out 
— that is his own life. He went to Sydney ; he 
kept his head above water; he looked about 
keenly for a plank of securit}" , and providence — 
luckr— threw him one. Land he had taken with 
grumbling reluctance as part payment of an an- 
cient debt — land he had never been within five 
hundred miles of — proved to be a portion of the 
celebrated Waikatoo gold mines. He was figura- 
tively and literally on the spot at once; his old 
trade stood to him. He traded, and sold, and 
realized, keeping a certain number of shares, and 
then turned his back on Greater Britain forever, 
intending to enjo}^ life and to end his days in 
Britain the Less. Money was his dear and re- 
spected friend; he loved it with evwy fiber of 
his little shriveled heart. Ambition was his rul- 


128 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


ing passion, and rank his idol. To rank he 
would abase himself and grovel in the gutter; 
to rank he intends to be allied before he is much 
older — if not in his own proper person, lie will at 
least be the father-in-law of a peer. Money for 
the attainment of this honor was-no object; and 
as his sharp, eager eyes fell on the pretty fright- 
ened face that was looking diffidently round the 
many groups standing on the deck of the steamer, 
he told himself, with a thrill of ecstasy, “That 
if that girl in the black hat is Madeline — by 
Jove! she will do!^’ 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


129 


CHAPTER XIII 

MR. west’s wishes 

Standing close to Mr. West — or, rather, Mr. 
West had attached himself to him — was his 
favorite fellow-traveler, a young and somewhat 
impecunious nobleman — Lord Anthony Foster 
— the son of a duke, whose pedigree was much 
longer than his purse, and one of a large family. 
Most of this family were already established in 
life, and had repaired their shattered fortunes 
by a prudent and wealthy marriage; but Lord 
Tony, as he was called, preferred his liberty. 
He was fond of sport and traveling, and was 
postponing the evil day (as he considered it) 
which, alas ! must sooner or later overtake him, 
for his private fortune was small. His elder 
brother, the present duke, was close-fisted, and 
his personal expenses, do as he would, invariably 
exceeded his expectations — it is a little way they 
have with many people — and although he had 
no extravagant tastes (so he declared), yet he 
was liberal, and liked to “do things comfort- 
ably.” In his appearance no one would suspect 


130 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


that the blood of a hundred earls ran in his 
veins; in fact (low be it whispered), he was a 
rather common - looking young man — short, 
•square, with a turned-up nose, wide nostrils, a 
wide mouth, and a faint light mustache; his 
complexion was tanned to mahogany, but a pair 
of merry blue eyes, and an open, good-humored 
countenance made up for many deficiencies. He 
was not a ladies’ man, but popular with men; 
not at all clever, but ever ready to laugh at other 
folks’ good things and his own mistakes — shrewd 
enough, too; a capital shot, an untiring angler, 
an enterprising traveler, and, according to his 
own account, an unparalleled sleeper. He had 
no profession, no ties, no landed estates to look 
after — the world was his landed estate — and he 
was now returning from a long tour of inspec- 
tion in Japan and Australia. 

Lord Tony had met Mr. West in Sydney so- 
ciety, and Mr. West had taken an immense 
fancy to nim, and had privately arranged the 
date of his own departure so as to secure the 
young lord as a fellow-passenger. He had also 
shared his cabin. In this unaffected young 
man, with a pleasant, hearty manner, and a 
large connection in the peerage, he saw a link to 
upper circles, and, a ready ladder for his nimble 
and ambitious foot. 

Mr. West was determined to get into society, 
to enjoy his money, to be in the swim, and to 
make a splash! He had obtained one or two 
good introductions to merchant princes, and he 
had cemented a fast friendship with Lord Tony. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


131 


Friendships grow quickly at sea, though these 
same friendships frequently languish and fade 
on shore. He had frequently and pointedly al- 
luded to ‘4iis only child,” ‘‘his daughter,” “his 
little heiress;” he had displayed with pride the 
photograph of a very charming girl in her early 
teens; he had thrown out hints that if she mar- 
ried to please him — a nice, unaffected, well-con- 
nected-young fellow, who would give her a coro- 
net on her handkerchief — the money to spend 
and keep up her position would be his affair. 

Lord Tony’s married brothers and sisters were 
continually and clamorously urging heiresses 
upon his notice; it was “his only chance,” they 
assured him. “He must marry money.” If 
this pretty girl now speaking to West, with visi- 
ble trepidation and becomingly heightened color, 
was the heiress he was always swaggering about 
and dragging into his conversation. Lord Tony 
told himself, as he took his cigarette out of his 
mouth and blew away a cloud of smoke, “that, 
by George! he might do worse.” And so he 
might. Presently he was formally introduced 
to the young lady and her companion, and Mr. 
West, who was metaphorically carried off his 
feet by Madeline’s unexpected grace, was in a 
condition of rampant satisfaction. She would 
go down. She would take anywhere; and actu- 
ally, for a few lofty seconds, he scorned a mere 
lord, and saw a wreath of strawberry leaves rest- 
ing on her pretty dark hair. 

Miss Harper was not slow to read the signs of 
the times — to interpret the expression of the mil- 


132 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


lionaire’s growing complacency: he found Mad- 
eline prettier than he had anticipated; he was 
greatly pleased; and she immediately improved 
the occasion, and murmured a few well-timed 
words into his ear about “dearest Madeline’s air 
of distinction, her exquisitely shaped head, her 
vivacity, her remarkable beauty ; fitted to adorn 
any sphere; always a favorite pupil; a most ac- 
complished, popular girl;” while Madeline 
gravely answered Lord Anthony’s blunt ques- 
tions. . He was the first lord she had ever spoken 
to, and, as far as she could judge, neither formid- 
able nor imposing. 

After a little she found herself being led up 
and presented to the captain and to several of the 
passengers, with a look and tone that told even 
Madeline, who had a very humble opinion of 
herself, that her father was exceedingly proud 
of her! 

“Oh, if he would only be kind — only be good 
to her! if her pretty face, that he appeared to 
value so much, would but open the door of his 
heart, and admit her and Laurence and his grand- 
child! But it would not. Do not think it, sim- 
ple Madeline; it will only admit you in company 
with a peer of the realm. 

After much fuss and bustle, Mr. West and his 
party disembarked. Never in all her life had 
Madeline been so much stared at. And she was 
not merely looked at curiously — as a pretty girl 
who had never seen her father since she was a 
child — she was doubly interesting as a great 
heiress, and a very marketable young person. 


MAKRIED OR SINGLE? 


1B3 


She was not sorry to make her escape, and was 
conducted down the gangway in a kind of tri- 
umphal procession, led by her exultant parent, 
her arm on his, while Miss Harper followed, 
leaning on Lord Anthony — who was to be Mr. 
West’s guest at his hotel — and I have no hesita- 
tion in affirming that this was the happiest mo- 
ment of Miss Harper’s life, if it was not that of 
her pupil’s (as to this latter I cannot speak with 
certainty). Arm-in-arm with a lord! What 
would people say at home when she went back? 
Her heart already beat high with anticipation of 
the sensation she would produce upon the minds 
of her particular circle. If one of them could 
only see her! But there is always an ‘Mf.” 

Mr. West was rather indisposed after his voy- 
age. He could not sleep, he declared; he missed 
the engines; and he remained at Plymouth for a 
few days. So did Lord Anthony, who was in 
no particular hurry. Miss Harper had reluct- 
antly taken leave, and returned to Harperton, 
endowed with a valuable present “for all her 
kindness to Madeline,” quoth Mr. West, as -he 
presented it with considerable pomp, and this 
offering she graciously and modestly accepted — 
yes, without the quivering of an eyelid, much 
less the ghost of a blush ! Perhaps, so crooked 
are some people’s ideas, she had brought herself 
to believe that she had been kind to Madeline — 
and, indeed, she had never been as hard as Miss 
Selina. She would have liked to have remained 
at this luxurious hotel a few days longer. Every- 
thing was done en pydnce. A carriage and pair, 


134 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


a really smart turnout (cockades and all), took 
them for a delightful drive. There were excur- 
sions to Mount Edgecunibe, promenades on the 
Hoe. Plymouth was gay, the weather was mag- 
nificent, Lord Anthony Foster of the party — and 
so amusing! Miss Harper was easily amused 
sometimes. She threw out one or two hints to 
Mr. West to the effect that she was excessively 
comfortable, that this little visit was quite too 
delightful — an oasis in her existence; that mam- 
ma was not lonely — in short, that she dreaded 
parting with her dearest pupil; but nevertheless 
she had to go. Mr. West was ruthless, he was 
blunt; he was, moreover, wonderfully keen at 
interpreting other people’s motives. He per- 
fectly understood Miss Harper. She was, no 
doubt, very much at her ease ; but he owed her 
nothing. She had been amply paid; she had 
had his girl for twelve years, and could afford to 
part with her young charge. 

Moreover, Miss Harper did not belong to the 
class of people he particularly wished to cultivate 
— that was sufficient — and he smilingly sped the 
parting guest, after a four days’ visit. During 
those four days Madeline had been installed as 
mistress of her father’s establishment, and was 
endeavoring to accustom herself to her new role. 
Everything was deferred to her, the ordering of 
dinner, the ordering of carriages, and of various 
items that meant a considerable outlay. She 
took up her position at once with a composure 
that astonished her school-mistress. She stared 
at Madeline in amazement, as she sat at the head 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


135 


of the table in her .new black gauze, and com- 
ported herself as though she had occupied the 
post for years. 

In about a week’s time the Wests (still accom- 
panied by Lord Anthony) went to London, stay- 
ing at the Metropole Hotel; and here Mr. West, 
who was a brisk man of action, and resolved to 
lose not an hour in enjoying his money and re- 
alizing his plans, set about house-hunting, con 
amore, assuring delighted house agents that 
price v/as no consideration — what he sought was 
size, style, and situation. 

Under these favorable circumstances, he soon 
discovered what he required. A superb mansion 
in Belgrave Square, with large suites of recep- 
tion-rooms, twenty bedrooms, hot and cold 
water, electric light, speaking-tubes, stabling 
for twelve horses, and, in short, to quote the ad- 
vertisement, ‘Svith everything desirable for a 
nobleman’s or gentleman’s family.” It had just 
been vacated by a marquis, which made it still 
more desirable to Mr. West. If not near the 
rose, the rose had lived there! Indeed, to tell 
the happy truth, a duke resided next door, and 
an embassador round the corner. So far so 
good. The next thing was to be neighborly. 
Then there was the business of furnishing — of 
course regardless of cost. Days and days were 
spent, selecting, measuring, matching, and dis- 
cussing at one of the most fashionable upholster- 
ers in town, and the result was most satisfactory, 
most magnificent, and most expensive. * There 
was a dining-room hung with ancestors — Charles 


. 136 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Surface’s, perhaps — but certainly not Mr. West’s. 
A full-length portrait of his father in prison 
dress would have been a startling novelty; there 
was an ante-room in turquoise blue, a drawing- 
room in yellow and white, and a boudoir in rose 
and pearl-color brocade. Of the delights of these 
apartments, of the paintings, statuary, bronzes, 
and Chinese curios, of the old silver and china 
and ivory work, and pianos and Persian carpets, 
it would take a book to catalogue. 

As for Madeline, accustomed, as we know, to 
four Windsor chairs, two tables, a shabby rag of 
Kidderminster carpet, and a horsehair sofa with 
a lame leg, her brain was giddy as she endeav- 
ored to realize that she was to be mistress of these 
treasures, and to preside over this palatial estab- 
lishment. Carriages and horses found places in 
stables and coach-houses ; a troop of well-trained 
servants populated the house. There was a 
stately lady housekeeper, a French chef, a 
French maid for Madeline, three footmen in 
mulberry and silver buttons, and a butler whom 
one might have mistaken for a dean, and whose 
deportment and dignity were of such proportions 
as to overawe all timid natures, and of very high 
value in his master’s eyes. 

Madeline shrank from her lady’s maid, but she 
was a necessity — noblesse oblige. She did not 
wish the sharp-eyed Parisienne to spy out the 
nakedness of the land, as far as her own ward- 
robe was concerned, and was at many a shift to 
postpone her arrival until she had garments more 
befitting her background and her father’s purse. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


137 


Indeed, he had not been pleased with her gowns, 
^‘they looked cheap,” he had remarked with a 
frown, 

‘‘Is that all you have, Madeline, that black 
thing?” he asked rather querulously one even- 
ing, as they stood in the drawing-room awaiting 
Lord Anthony and a friend. 

‘•Yes, papa: and it is nearly new,” she said 
in a tone of deprecation. “It does very well 
for the present, arid I must wear it out.” 

“Wear out! Stuff and nonsense!” irritably. 
“One would think you had a shingle loose. I 
really sometimes fancy, when I hear you talking 
of the price of this and that, and so on, and econ- 
omy, that you have known what it is to be poor 
— poor as Job ! Whereas, by George ! you have 
never known what it is to want for a single thing 
ever since you were born. You have as much 
idea of poverty as your prize black poodle has!” 

Had she? Had she not known what it was to 
frequent pawnshops, to battle with wolfish want, 
to experience not merely the pleasures of a 
healthy appetite, but the actual pangs of painful 
hunger. Oh, had she not known what it was to 
be poor! She gave a little half-choked nervous 
laugh, and carefully avoided her father’s inter- 
rogative eyes. 

“I’ll give you a check to-morrow,” he re- 
sumed, “and do go to some good dressmaker, 
and get yourself some smart clothes. Lady 
Rachel, Lord Tony’s sister, is going to call; ask 
her to take you to some first-class place, and 
choose half-a dozen gowns, I really mean it; 


138 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


and put this thing, flicking her fifty-shilling 
costume with a contemptuous finger and thumb, 
“behind the fire. You are not like your mother; 
she made the money fly. However, she was 
always well turned out. I don’t want you to 
ruin me; but there is a medium in all things. 
What is the good of a daughter who is a beauty 
if she won’t set herself off?” 

“Do you really think me pretty, father?” she 
asked, rather timidly. 

“'Why, of course I do! We shall have you 
setting the fashions and figuring in the papers, 
and painted full life-size, when you have more 
assurance, and know how to make the most of 
yourself. Remember this,” now giving his col- 
lar a chuck, and speaking with sudden gravity, 
“that when you marry” — Madeline blushed — 
“when you marry, I say,” noticing this blush, 
“you must go into the peerage; nothing else 
would suit me^ never forget that. Now that 
you know my views, there can be no misunder- 
standings later on. Never send a commoner to 
ask for my consent.” 

“But, father,” she ventured boldly, now rais- 
ing her eyes to his, that surveyed her like two 
little fiery brown beads, “supposing that I loved 
a poor man, what then? How would it be then?” 

“Folly!” he almost yelled. “Poor man. Poor 
devil! Love! rot and nonsense, bred from read- 
ing trashy novels. Love a poor man ! Do you 
want to drive me mad? Never mention it, never 
think of it, if I am to keep my senses.” And 
he began to pace about. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


139 


she answered resolutely, pressing her 
fan very hard into the' palm of her trembling 
hand, ‘^supposing that I did? Why should I 
not ? — you married my mother for love.” 

^‘Not a bit of it,” he rejoined emphatically, ‘‘I 
liked her, admired her; she was very pretty, and 
had blue blood — foreign blood — in her veins, but 
she was a good match. She had a fine fortune, 
she was in the best set. Her father took me into 
partnership. I was a rising man— and — er — I 
know all about love ; I have been through the 
mill! Ha, ha, it’s bad while it lasts, but it does 
not last! The woman I loved was a little girl 
from Tasmania, without a copper. She tempted 
me mightily, but I knew I might just as well 
cut my throat at once. No, I married for good 
and sensible reasons, and one word will do as 
well as ten. If you ever make a low marriage, 
a love match with a pauper, or throw yourself 
and your beauty and your accomplishments, and 
all I’ve done for you, and all my hopes away, I 
solemnly declare to you that I shall not hesitate 
to turn you penniless into the street. I swear I 
will doit, and never own you again. You might 
go and die in the poorhouse, and I’d never raise 
a finger to save you from a pauper’s funeral.” 

He spoke very fast, his voice uneven sind vi- 
brating with passion, his face livid at the mere 
idea of his schemes being foiled. He was ter- 
ribly in earnest; his very look made Madeline 
quail. She trembled and turned pale, as she 
thought of poor Laurence. 

‘Ht’s not much I ask you to do for me^ is it, 


14.0 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Maddie, after all I’ve done. for you?” lie con- 
tinued in a softer key. -‘I have my ambitions, 
like other men, and all my ambition is for you. 
Give up all thoughts of your lover — that is, if 
you have one — and be an obedient daughter. 
It’s not so much to do for me, after all.” 

Was it not! Little he knew! 

‘‘Promise me one thing, Madeline, ” he con- 
tinued once more, breathing in hard gasps, and 
seizing her ice-cold hand in his hot dry grip. 

“What is that, father?” she asked in a 
whisper. 

‘ ' That you will never marry without my con- 
sent, and never listen to a commoner. Will you 
promise me this? Can you promise this?” 

“Yes, father, I can,” she answered, steadily 
looking him full in the eyes, with a countenance 
as white as marble. 

“On your honor, Madeline?” 

“On my honor!” she echoed in a curious, 
mechanical voice. 

“Very well, then,” inwardly both relieved 
and delighted; “that is what I call a model 
daughter. You shall have a prize. I will get 
you some diamonds to-morrow that will open 
people’s eyes; no trumpery little half-set, but a 
necklet, tiara, and brooches. I saw a parm^e 
to-day, old family jewels. Hard up — selling off; 
one goes up, another comes down, like a see- 
saw. It’s our turn now ! You shall wear stones 
that will make people blink — diamonds that will 
be the talk of London. If folks say they are too 
handsome for an unmarried girl, that is our affair. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


141 


and a coronet will mend that. You have a head 
that will carry one well. Your mother’s blue 
blood shows. You shall pick and choose, too. 
Lord Anthony may think — ” 

“Lord Anthony Foster and Sir Felix Gibbs,” 
said a sonorous voice. 

And what Lord .Anthony might think was 
never divulged to Madeline; Mr. West, with 
great presence of mind, springing with one su- 
preme mental leap from family matters to social 
courtesies. 

The dinner was perfect, served at a round 
table. The floral decorations were exquisite; 
attendance, menu, wines were everything that 
could be desired. The gentlemen talked a good 
deal — talked of the turf, the prospect of the 
moors, of the latest failure in the city, and the 
latest play, and perhaps did not notice how very 
little the young hostess contributed to the con- 
versation. She w^as absent in mind, if present^ 
in the body; but she smiled, and looked pretty, 
and that was sufiicient. She was beholding with 
her mental eye a very different menage^ far be- 
yond the silver center-pieces, pines, maiden-hair 
ferns and orchids, far beyond the powdered foot- 
men, with their dainty dishes and -French en- 
trees. 

We know what she saw. A cozy farm parlor, 
with red-tiled floor, a round table spread with a 
clean coarse cloth, decorated by a blue mug, 
filled with mignonette and sweet pea, black- 
handled knives and forks, willow-pattern delf 
plates, a young man eating his frugal dinner 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 




alone, and opposite to him an empty chair — her 
chair. She saw in another room a curious old 
wooden cradle, with a pointed half-roof, which 
had rocked many a Holt in its day. Inside it 
lay a child that was not a Holt, a child of a 
different type, a child with black lashes, and 
a feeding-bottle in its vicinity. (Now, Mrs. 
Holt’s progeny had never been brought up by 
hand.) Her baby! Oh, if papa were only to 
know! she thought, and the idea pierced her 
heart like a knife, as she looked across at him, 
where he sat smiling, conversational, and unsus- 
picious. He would turn her out now this very 
instant into the Square, were he to catch a 
glimpse of those two living pictures. He was 
unusually animated on the subject of some shoot- 
ing he had heard of, and he had two attentive 
and, shall we confess it, personally interested 
listeners — listeners who had rosy Ausions of shoot- 
ing the grouse on those very moors, as Mr. 

^ West’s guests. 

So, for a while, Madeline was left to her own 
' thoughts, and they traveled back to her earliest 
I married days, the pleasant little sitting-room on 
I the first floor at No. 2, the bright fires, bright 
flowers, new music, and cozy dinners (the mut- 
ton-chop period), when all her world was bounded 
by Laurence. Was it not still the case? Alas, 
no! The bald-headed gentleman opposite, who 
was haranguing about “drives and bags,” held 
a bond on her happiness. He had to be studied, 
obeyed, and — deceived! Would she be able to 
play her part? Would she break down? When 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


143 


he looked at her, as he had done that evening, 
her heart failed her. She felt almost compelled 
to sink at his feet and tell him all. It was well 
she had restrained herself. She resolved to save 
for a rainy day some of the money he was to 
give her on the morrow. Yes, the clouds were 
beginning to gather, even now. 

Oh, what a wicked wretch she felt at times ! 
But why had cruel fate pushed her into such 
a corner? Why was her father so worldly and 
ambitious? Why had she failed to put forward 
Laurence’s plea, his own long absence and si- 
lence, and thus excuse herself once for all? Easy 
to say this now, when that desperate moment 
was over — it is always so easy to say these things 
afterward ! She had given her father a solemn 
promise (and oh, what a hollow promise it was!), 
and she was to receive her reward in diamonds 
of the first water — diamonds that would blind 
the ordinary and unaccustomed eye ! 

Presently she rose, and made her way slowly 
to her great state drawing-rooms, and as she 
sipped her coffee she thought of Laurence, and 
wondered what he was doing, and when she 
dared to see him, to write? Poor Laurence! 
how seedy his clothes were; and how much his 
long illness had altered his looks. With his hol- 
low cheeks and cropped head (his head had been 
shaved), none of his former friends would rec- 
ognize him. Then her thoughts wandered to 
her diamonds. She stood up and surveyed her- 
self in the long mirror, and smiled back slightly 
at her own tall, graceful reflection. Diamonds 


144 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


always looked well in dark hair. She was but 
little more than nineteen, and had the natural 
feminine instinct for adornment. She smiled 
still more radiantly; and what do we hear her 
saying in a whisper, and with a rapid stealthy 
glance round the room? It is this: “I wonder 
how you will look in a diamond tiara, Mrs. 
Wynne?’’ 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


145 


CHAPTER XIV 

A SOCIAL GODMOTHER 

The next day Lord Tony’s only sister, Lady 
Rachel Jenkins, arrived to call — but not for the 
first time — upon Miss West. She was an ex^ 
tremely vivacious and agreeable little woman, 
with dark eyes and flashing teeth. She took 
Madeline out with her in her own brougham, 
and oh, great favor! inti’oduced her to her pet 
dressmaker. This august person viewed Miss 
West’s stone-colored costume with an air of 
amused contempt; it was not good style; the 
cut of the skirt was quite “out,” and she Anally 
wound up by uttering the awful words, “Ready 
made. ” It was not what Madeline liked, or even 
thought she would like, but what Lady Rachel 
suggested and Madame Coralie approved, that 
was selected. 

“Your father, my dear,” patting the girl’s 
hand confldentially, “met me on the stairs, and 
we had a few words together. I’m going to 
show you what we do in London, and what we 
wear, and whom we know; and what we don’t 


146 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


wear, and whom we don’t know, my little coun- 
try mouse!” 

So the country mouse was endowed with half- 
a-dozen fine dresses chosen entirely by Lady 
Rachel — dresses for morning, afternoon, and 
evening. 

‘‘I only order six, my dear,” said her chap- 
eron, cheerily, “as the season is getting over, 
and these will carry you on till August, if you 
have a good maid. Madame Coralie, we can 
only give you five days,” rising as she spoke. 

But Madame Coralie threw up eyes and hands 
and gesticulated, and volubly declared that it 
was absolument impossible! She had so many 
gowns for Ascot and the royal garden party. 
Nevertheless, Lady Rachel was imperious, and 
carried her point. 

“The opera mantle is to be lined with pink 
brocade, and you will line the cloth skirt with 
shot sulphur-colored silk ; and that body I chose 
is to be almost drowned in chiffon and silver.” 

She was to be female bear-leader to this young 
heiress, and was resolved that her appearance 
should not disgrace her, and that “the old squat- 
ter,” as she called him, should be taken at his 
word and made to pay and look pleasant. 

The succeeding visit was to a milliner’s; the 
next to a shoe shop, when the same scene was 
rehearsed. Madeline looked on and said noth- 
ing, but made an angry mental note that she^ 
would never again go out shopping with this im- 
perious little lady. Why, even the poorest had 
the privilege of choosing their own clothes! 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


147 


Why should this little black -browed woman, 
barely up to her shoulder, tyrannize over her 
thus? Simply because, my dear, unsophisti- 
cated Madeline, she has promised to bring you 
out — to be your social godmother, to introduce 
you to society, such as your father loveth, and to 
be friendly. Besides all this, she has already de- 
cided in her own mind that “jmu will do very 
well,” and are not nearly as rustic as she ex- 
pected; and she has made up her mind — pre- 
cisely as she did about your satin dinner-dress 
— that you are to marry her brother. Oh, happy 
prospect ! 

Lady Rachel was Lord Anthony^s only sister 
— a woman of five-and- thirty, who, thirteen 
years previously, had married a rich parvenu — 
plain, homely, much older than herself — for his 
money. She had no fortune as Lady Rachel 
Foster, and she was not particularly pretty ; so 
she made the best available use of her title, and 
changed it for twenty thousand a year and the 
name of Jenkins. Mr. Jenkins liked being an- 
nounced as ‘‘Lady Rachel, and Mr. Jenkins;” 
to be asked in a loud voice, in public places, 
“How is your wife — Lady Rachel?” For her 
part, she liked her fine house, servants, car- 
riages, and jewels ; and both were, to a certain 
extent, satisfied with their bargain. Perhaps of 
late years there had been a certain amount of 
disappointment. Lady Rachel went more and 
more into society, and drifted widely apart from 
Mr. Jenkins and his City friends. Mr. Jenkins 
was not considered an acquisition in her circles, 


148 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


which were a little rapid. He was given to un- 
derstand — by deeds, not words — that he was 
rather a bore, and that he must not always be 
expecting to be. tied to the tail of his brilliant, 
fashionable, frivolous little wife — and then, Mr. 
Jenkins was jealous! 

It was quite time that Anthony was married, 
thought his sister. He was not prepossessing in 
appearance. He was well known in society, and 
especially in her own set, as a fellow with an 
empty head, empty pockets, and a roving nat- 
ure. He was not popular. She was aware that 
he had been rejected by heiress after heiress. 
He would not be modest and content with a plain 
girl, or an elderly widow, or even a faded spin- 
ster on the shady side of forty ! No; Lord An- 
thony Foster must have beauty and money to 
boot, and there was no bidding for his coronet in 
the quarters these came from. Prudent mammas 
had set a mark against his name, and where his 
attentions would have been welcomed, he turned 
up his nose, and talked in a high moral manner 
about the sin of marrying one’s grandmother. 
His affectionate sister had vainly suggested one 
or two ladies that she had thought suitable, but 
until now Lord Tony had been too difficile^ and 
her pains had gone for nothing. 

But now, oh, joy at last, he had found a girl 
almost, as one might say, to order — young, ac- 
complished, ladylike, very pretty, and very rich. 

Lady Rachel already considered Madeline her 
sister-in-law, and had already selected her own 
gown for the wedding, so far ahead do some ac* 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


149 


tive, imaginative natures throw their mental 
life. There was nothing to wait for. Tony w^s 
willing — the old squatter was willing — and the 
girl — well, she was willing, of course. 

Madame Ooralie’s dresses came home punc- 
tually, and were -all that the most fastidious 
could desire, in fit, style, color, and cut. Made- 
line spent the whole afternoon, in the retirement 
of her own room, slowly trying on all six, one 
after the other, with ever-increasing approba- 
tion. The climax was an oyster-white satin, 
with a turquoise velvet and silver bodice — a 
dream of a dress, to quote the enraptured Jose- 
phine. 

Madeline had an aesthetic appreciation of her- 
self as she stood before a glass and contemplated 
the slim figure, white rounded arms, the rich 
glistening skirt, the exquisitely molded bodice. 
Could this apparition be the same young woman 
who had humbled herself before Mrs. Kane, and 
carried up her own coals? What a difference 
dress made — in self-respect and self-importance! 
Dress, as she now realized it, was a powerful 
engine in cultivating one’s own self-esteem. 
Yes, a silk-lined skirt could impart a surprising 
amount of confidence! She glanced over one 
shoulder, then over the other, then looked full 
at her refiection, and said to herself, with a 
smile, ‘‘I do love pretty clothes!” 


150 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XV 

MR. JESSOP DOES HIS DUTY 

Lady Rachel and Madame Coralie, between 
them, soon metamorphosed the appearance of 
Miss West. She took to her elegant dresses and 
mantles and tea-gowns with astonishing facility; 
also to her landau and pair, victoria and cobs, 
diamonds, dignities, and the last fashion in dogs 
— a Chinese spaniel. It was not a specimen of 
animal she especially admired; but her father 
paid a long price for Chow-chow, because he was 
the rage, and he looked well on the back seat of 
the victoria. Yes, Madeline was remarkably 
adaptable; she developed a predilection for all 
the sensual accessories of color and perfume. 
She also developed a fastidious taste at table, 
and a rare talent for laying out money. 

And what of Laurence Wynne during the time 
that his wife is reveling in luxury? 

He has been making rapid strides on the road 
to recovery; he is almost well; and the end of 
his sojourn with the friendly farmer’s family is 
now drawing perceptibly near. He has letters 
from Madeline, as she finds means to post them 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


151 


with her own hands — letters full of descriptions 
of her new life, her new friends, and all the won- 
derful new world that has been opened to her view. 

She, who was never at a dance, excepting at 
the two breaking-up parties at Mrs. Harper’s, 
has been living in a round of gayety, which has 
whirled faster and faster as the season waned — • 
thanks to Lady Rachel’s introductions and chap- 
eronage; thanks to her beauty, and her father’s 
great wealth. 

Miss West has already become known— already 
her brilliant coloring and perfect profile have 
been noted by great and competent connoisseurs. 
Her face was already familiar in the park. 

Luckily for her, dark beauties were coming 
into fashion; in every way she was fortunate. 
Her carriage was pointed out in the Row; her 
table was littered with big, square monogramed 
envelopes and cards of invitation, far too numer- 
ous for acceptance. And Miss AVest, the Aus- 
tralian heiress, as she was called, had opened 
many doors by that potent pass-key, a pretty 
face, and admitted not only herself, but also her 
proud and happy parent. 

Madeline does not say all this in-so many long 
sentences to Laurence; not that he would be 
jealous, dear fellow ! She knows him better than 
that; but she is sensible that there is a ocrLain 
incongruity between their circumstancos just at 
present, and she will not enlarge on her successes 
more than is absolutely needful. Yet a word 
drops out here and slips in there, which tells 
Laurence far more than she supposes. Besides 


152 MARRIED OR SINGLE? 

this, Laurence is no fool. He can draw infer- 
ences; he can put two and two together — it is his 
profession. Moreover, he sees the daily, society, 
and illustrated papers, thanks to Mr. Jessop, 
who has given a liberal order to his news-agent, 
believing that his gifted friend, who always lived 
at high brain-pressure, must be developing into 
a state of coma in his rural quarters, among cows 
and pigs and geese. 

Laurence reads the letters between the lines. 
He reads society’s doings, and in the warm June 
and July evenings, as he strolls about the fields 
alone, has plenty of leisure for reflection. These 
are not very happy times for Laurence Wynne. 
He has found some consolation in work. One or 
two articles from his pen have made their way 
into leading reviews, and been praised for their 
style, substance, and wit. A short sketch of a 
country tragedy has added another feather to 
his cap. In these long, lonely, empty days he 
has given ample time and brain- work (his best) 
to these vivid articles, readily scanned in a quar- 
ter of an hour. They recalled his name; at 
any rate, people began to remember Laurence 
Wynne — a clC'ver chap who made a foolish mar- 
riage, and subsequently lived in a slum, and then 
nearly went and died. Apparently, he was not 
dead yet! There was a good deal of vitality in 
him still, and that of a very marketable descrip- 
tion. Success, however small, breeds success, 
and a little sun began to shine on Laurence 
Wynne at last. He was asked to contribute 
articles to the ‘Razor” and the “Present,” two 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


153 


of the most up-to-date periodicals. He was well 
paid— cash down. He was independent once 
more, and he felt as if he would like to go out 
into the fields and shout for joy. 

Now and then he ventured to write to his wife 
— to Miss West, 365 Belgrave Square; and Miss 
West eagerly snatches the letter from under a 
pile of society notes, in thick, fashionable envel- 
ojies, plunges it into her pocket, and reads it 
greedily alone; for although she is a little bit 
carried away by admiration, money, and power, 
yet a letter from Laurence puts all these pleas- 
ures completely into the shade, as yet. 

This is his last that she holds in her hand, 
written after long meditation, and with many a 
pause between the sentences. He had turned 
out an article for the ‘"Razor” in half the time. 

“Holt Hill Farm. 

“My dearest Madeline— Your welcome let- 
ter is at present lying before me; and now that 
the household is asleep, and that there is not a 
stir on the premises, nor a sound, except the loud 
ticking of the kitchen clock, I sit down to write 
to you without fear of being disturbed, for this, 
my dear Maddie, is going to be an important 
epistle. I am sincerely glad to hear that you 
are so happy; that your father shows that he 
has affection for you; that you and he are no 
longer strangers, but getting on together capi- 
tally. I hope his tenderness will be able to sur- 
vive the news you have to tell him, and must 
tell him soon — the fact, in short, that you are 


154 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


married. I can quite understand how you are 
dreading the evil moment, and can fully enter 
into your feelings of shrinking reluctance to dis- 
pel this beautiful new life, this kind of enchanted 
existence, by just one magic word, and that word 
to be uttered by your own lips. But if you are 
adverse to mentioning this one word — which 
must be spoken, • sooner or later — let me take the 
commission on myself. I will speak to your 
father. I will bear the full blast and fury of his 
indignation and disappointment. After all, we 
have nothing to be ashamed of. If I had known 
that you were the heiress of a millionaire, I 
would never have ventured to marry 3^011— of 
that you may be sure. But, under other circum- 
stances, it was different. In the days when you 
had neither father nor home, I offered you my 
home, such as it was. There was no disparity 
between our two walks in life, nothing to indi- 
cate the barrier which has subsequently arisen 
between us. 

“Maddie, we have come to the cross-roads. 
You will have to choose one way or the other. 
You will have to choose between your father and 
me — between riches and poverty. If your father 
will not listen to the idea of your having changed 
your name, you must let me testify to the fact; 
and if he shuts his do u'S on you afterward, you 
are no worse off than a year ago If I thought 
you would ever again have such a terrible strug- 
gle to live as you experienced last winter, I would 
not be so barbarous, so cruel, as to ask 3-011 to 
leave your present luxurious home.. But things 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


155 


look brighter. I am, thank God, restored to 
health. I have a prospect of earning a liveli- 
hood; our dark days are, I trust, a thing of the 
past. I am resolved to set to work next week. 
I cannot endure the idea of living in idleness on 
your father’s money; for although the whole of 
our stay here has cost less than you say he has 
recently giv^en for a dog; still it is his money all 
the same — money for your education^ money di- 
verted from its original use, money expended on 
a fraud. Of late I have not touched it, having 
another resource. I only wish I could replace 
every halfpenny. Let us have an end of this 
secrecy and double-dealing. And now that we 
have once more got a foothold on life, and the 
means of existence, I believe I shall be able to 
scramble up the ladder ! Who knows but you 
may be a judge’s wife yet! I wish I could give 
you even a tithe of the luxuries with which you 
are now surrounded. I would pawn years of 
my future to do it. But if I cannot endow you 
with diamonds and carriages, I can give you 
what money cannot buy, Maddie, an undivided 
heart, that loves you with every pulse of its 
existence. 

‘‘Now I have said my say. I only await a 
line from you to go at once to town, and lay bare 
our secret to your father. It is the right thing 
to do; it is, indeed. You cannot continue to live 
this double life — and your real home is with your 
husband and child. It is now three months and 
more since you drove away down the lane with 
Farmer Holt — three long, long months to me, 


156 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Maddie. You liave had ample time to make an 
inroad on your father’s afifecfcions. You can do 
a great deal in that way in less than three 
months. If he is what you say, he will not be 
implacable. You are his only child, You tell 
me that he thinks so much of good blood and 
birth — at least in this respect the Wynnes should 
please him. He will find out all about us in 
Burke. We were barons of the twelfth century; 
and there is a dormant title in the family. The 
candle is just out, and I must say good-by. But 
I could go on writing to you for another hour. 
The text of my discourse, if not sufficiently plain 
already, is, let me tell your father of our mar- 
riage. One line will bring me to town at once. 

“I am, your loving husband, 

‘‘Laurence Wynne.” 

“Do not think that I am complaining that 
you have not been down here. I fully under- 
stand that your father, having no occupation, is 
much at home, perhaps too much at home, and 
can’t boar you out of his sight — which is natu- 
ral, and that to come and go to the Holt Farm 
would take four hours — hours for which you 
would be called on to account. And you dared 
not venture — dared not deceive him. Deceive 
him no longer in any ivay^ Maddie. Send me a 
wire, and he shall know all before to-morrow 
night.” 

Madeline read this letter over slowly, with 
rapidly changing color. Some sentences she 
perused two or three times, and when she came 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


157 


to the last word, she recommenced at the begin- 
ning — then she folded it up, put it into its en- 
velope, thrust it into her dressing-case, and 
turned the key. 

She was a good deal disturbed; you could read 
that by her face, as she went and stood in the 
window, playing with the charms on her bangle. 
She had a color in her cheeks and a frown upon 
her brow. 

How impatient Laurence was! Why would 
he not give her time? What was three months 
to prepare papa? And was it really three 
months? It seemed more like three weeks. 
Yes, April; and this was the beginning of July. 

Her eyes slowly traveled round the luxurious 
apartment, with its pale blue silk hangings, in- 
laid satin-wood furniture, and Persian carpet, 
her toilet-table loa-ded with silver bottles and 
boxes, a large silver framed mirror, draped in 
real lace, the silver-backed brushes, the cases of 
perfume ; and she thought with a shudder of the 
poor little room at No. 2, with its rickety table, 
shilling glass, and jug without a handle. De- 
liberately, she stood before the dressing-table, 
and deliberately studied her reflection in the 
costly mirror. How different she looked to poor, 
haggard, shabby Mrs. Wynne, the slave of a 
sick husband and a screaming baby, with all the 
cares of a miserable home upon her young shoul- 
ders; with no money in her purse, no hope in 
her heart, no future, and no friends! 

Here she -beheld Miss West, radiant with 
health and beauty, her abundant hair charm- 


158 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


ingly arranged by the deft-fingered Josephine, 
her pretty, slim figure shown off by a simply 
made but artistic twenty-guinea gown; her little 
watch was set in brilliants, her fingers were glit- 
tering with the same. She had just risen from 
a dainty lunch, where she was served by two 
powdered footmen and the clerical butler. Her 
carriage is even now waiting at the door, through 
the open window she can hear the impatient 
stamping of her six-hundred-guinea horses. 

She was about to call for an earl’s daughter, 
who was to chaperone her to a fete, where, from 
previous experience, she knew that many and 
many a head would be turned to look after pretty 
Miss West; and she liked to be admired! She 
had never gauged her own capacity for pleasure 
until the last few months. And Laurence re- 
quired her to give up all this, to rend the veil 
from her secret, and stand before the world once 
more, shabby, faded, insignificant Mrs. Wynne, 
the wife of a briefless barrister ! 

Of course she was devoted to Laurence. “Oh, ” 
angrily to her own conscience, “do not think that 
I can ever change to him! But the hideous con- 
trast between that life and this! He must give 
me a little more time — he must, he must! I 
enjoy myself a little!” she reiterated pas- 
sionately to her beautiful reflection. ‘ ‘ Once papa 
knows, I shall be thrust out to beggary. I know 
I shall; and I shall never have a carriage or a 
French gown again.” 

And this was the girl who, four months pre- 
viously, had pawned her clothes for her bus- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


159 


band’s necessaries, and walked miles to save 
twopence ! 

Sudden riches are a terrible test — a severe trial 
of moral fiber, especially when they raise a girl of 
nineteen, with inherited luxurious tastes, from 
poverty, touching starvation, to be mistress of 
unbounded wealth, the daughter, only child and 
heiress of an open-handed Croesus, with thou- 
sands as plentiful now as coppers once had been. 

“I will go down and see him. I must risk it; 
there is no other plan,” she murmured, as she 
rang her bell preparatory to putting herself in 
the hands of her maid. ‘‘Letters are so stupid. 
I will seize the first chance I can find, and steal 
down to the Holts, if it is but for half an hour, 
and tell Laurence that he must wait; he must be 
patient.” 

And so he was — pathetically patient, as morn- 
ing after morning he waited in the road and 
waylaid the postman, who seldom had occasion 
to come up to the farm; and still there was no 
letter. 

Madeline was daily intending to rush down, 
and day followed day without her finding the 
opportunity or the courage to carry out her pur- 
pose. And still Laurence waited ; and then he 
began to fear that she must' be ill. A whole 
week and no letter! He would go to town and 
inquire. No sooner thought of than done. Fear 
and keen anxiety now took the place of any other 
sensation, and hurriedly making a change in his 
clothes, and leaving a message for Mrs. Holt, he 
set off to the station — three miles — on foot, and 


160 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


took a third-class return to London. Once there, 
he made his way — and a long way it was — to 
the fashionable quarter of Belgrave Square. It 
was a sultry July afternoon, the very pavement 
was hot, the air oppressive, people were begin- 
ning to talk of Cowes and Scotlando 

Nevertheless, many gay equipages were dash- 
ing about, containing society notabilities and 
bright parasols. One of these swept round a 
corner just as Laurence was about to cross the 
street; he had only a^ fleeting glimpse as it passed 
by. A landau and pair of bay steppers, with 
what is called “extravagant” action, powdered 
servants, two ladies in light summer dresses, and 
a young man, with a button-hole and lavender 
gloves, on the back seat. 

One of the ladies had a faint resemblance to 
Madeline, as well as could be gathered from an 
impression of bright dark eyes, shaded by a 
French picture-hat and a chiffon sunshade. No, 
it could not be her. This was some patrician 
beauty, who looked as if she had been accus- 
tomed to such an equipage from the days of her 
perambulator. 

- It was merely a passing idea, and quickly 
brushed aside by Laurence as he once more 
walked on rapidl5^ At length he approached 
the house — he was at the same side of the square 
— within four numbers now. His heart beat 
rather quickly as he glanced up. No; none of 
the upper blinds were pulled down, he observed 
with relief, and then he took in the dimensions 
of this palatial mansion, with a porch and pil- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


IfJl 

lars, conservatory, billiard-room, and buildings 
built out, and built on, wherever they could be 
crammed. The awnings were out — gay red and 
white striped ones — banks of flowers bloomed in 
the balconies. Oh, what a contrast to Solferino 
Place! Would not Madeline see it too? he asked 
himself, with a pang. After a moment’s hesita- 
tion he rang the bell, and almost instantly the 
door was opened by a tall, supercilious looking 
footman. 

‘‘Is — is — Miss — West at home?” stammered 
her husband. 

“Not at home,” replied the servant, in a par- 
rot voice, holding out his hand for the card that 
he presumed would be forthcoming. 

“Is she quite well?” ventured the visitor. 

“Quite well, sir, thank you,” having studied 
the questioner, and come to the conclusion that 
he was not one of your nobodies, like his worthy 
master, “Who shall I say?” he asked confiden- 
tially. 

“It is of no consequence. I have fogotten my 
cards. I will call again,” turning as he spoke 
and slowly descending the steps. 

This was a most rum go in Jeames’s opinion. 
He might, at least, have left his name! But 
no. Jeames stood gazing after him, with v/hat 
is called “the door in his hand,” for two whole 
minutes, glanced sleepily around the big, white- 
hot-looking square, and then went in to study 
the paper and the latest betting on Goodwood. 

Laurence made his way to Mr. Jessop’s cham- 
bers, in — oh, extravagance! — a hansom, and 


162 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


found that gentleman extremely busy, and, as 
he expressed it, ‘‘up to his ears.” He, how- 
ever, knocked off for the time being, in order to 
have a smoke and a chat with his friend, whom 
he declared that he found looking as fib as a fid- 
dle, and requested to know when he was going 
to put his shoulder to the wheel again? 

“Lots for you to do, my boy. Martin has 
married an heiress and cut the concern. My 
sister has married the son of old Baggs, of the 
great firm of Baggs & Keepe, solicitors. My 
fortune is made, and so is yours!” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

“And, by Jove, old chap! those articles of 
yours, in the ‘Pepper and Salt Magazine,’ have 
taken the whole baking — are regular scorchers; 
lots of people are talking of them, and asking if 
they are by the same Laurence Wynne, of the 
Inner Temple — fellow with a beard? Who would 
have thought of your breaking out in that line, 
eh? as ready with your pen as your tongue.” 

“Readier.” 

“And look here, Larry, there is that case of 
Cox V, Pox coming on, and you can have a fin- 
ger in the pie if you like.” 

Larry did not clutch at this lucrative opening; 
he puffed away moodily at a cigarette, and stared 
out of the window in rather an abstracted fash- 
ion. 

His keen-eyed friend noted this, and said, in a 
totally different key : 

“And what about Mrs. Wynne?” 

His companion looked at him quickly, colored 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


163 


faintly, threw his cigarette out of the window, 
and said nothing. 

“She has not told the old gentleman yet?” 

“JSTo, not yet.” 

“So I surmised, as they say in America. • I 
6aw her at the opera last night, the cynosure of 
all eyes, and her proud and happy father noting 
that half the glasses in the house were fixed on 
Miss West. Ahem! How long is it to go on, 
this little comedy? Eh?” 

“I can’t tell you!” impatiently. “Not an- 
other hour as far as I am concerned. I don’t 
wish her to sail under false colors any longer. I 
came up to see her to-day.” 

“The deuce you did!” in blunt amazement. 

“But she was out.” 

“I suppose you saw the house and the style. 
By Jove! it’s like royalty. I dined there last 
week.” 

did?” in unfeigned astonishment. 

“Yes, your most humble servant. I’ve met 
Mr. West at my club; he knows a friend of mine 
—an impecunious lord — that is all. The dinner 
was a banquet, a feast fit for Lucullus himself. 
I had the honor of being presented to Miss 
West.” 

“Indeed!” 

“Of course I had never seen her before,” 
winking at his friend. “And, upon my word, 
I declare I scarcely recognized her ! Dress, 
diamonds, and manner — manner begotten of im- 
portance, appreciation, wealth, and luxurious 
surroundings. Not that Mrs. Wynne’s manners 


164 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


were not always those of a gentlewoman, but 
there is a difference between doing the honors of 
a couple of herrings and a sheep’s head, in one 
living room, and being the hostess presiding over 
a French dinner — with perfect appointments and 
exotic flowers — entertaining lords and ladies and 
bishops — eh? — and doing it well, too. But where- 
ever she got her good blood, Laurence, it did not 
come from her father’s side of the house. I 
sometimes felt inclined to run my fork into him, 
or to shy a wine-glass at his head. He is so 
blatantly proud of Robert West, his success, his 
money, his grand acquaintances, and, above aZ/, 
his daughter. Excuse me, he is a thundering 
little bounder!” 

^‘You think he will be furious when he knows 
that he has a son-in-law?” said Laurence, 
gravely. 

“If you were a lord — or even a baronet— and 
had some sort of handle to your name — ” 

“But as I have nothing — not even Q.C.?” 

“I think, from what 1 know of him, that he 
will be unpleasant, my dear Larry — very un- 
pleasant.” 

“And the first shape that his unpleasantness 
will take will be to turn Madeline out of doors?” 

“Yes, I should say so — I think the odds are 
fifty to one.” 

“Well, she has her own home, at any rate. I 
shall set to work on Monday. I’ll go round and 
see about my old chambers. You can send me 
those papers, and tell Tom, the clerk, that I am 
coming back for good. I shall take lodgings as 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


165 


soon as I liavo looked round — in a more airy 
locality than Solferino Place. Mrs. Holt will 
keep the child till we are settled.” 

‘‘You — er — mean— you and Mrs. Wynne?” 
looking curiously at his companion. 

‘‘Well, yes; who else should I mean?” 

“Does she say anything about returning?” 

“No-o,” staring confusedly; “but it is under- 
stood.” 

Here ensued a short silence, during which Mr. 
Jessop was neiwing himself to speak his mind to 
his friend— to speak for that friend’s good— a 
thankless task, but he assured himself that it was 
his duty. 

“Larry, old chap, you and I have been pals 
since we were in jackets at Harrow, and I’ve 
been your ally over since the day you licked 
Thompson, major, for pitching into me. We’ve 
always stuck together somehow ever since. I 
think a great deal about your concerns. What 
hurts you hurts me.” 

“Out with it,” cried the other, bruskly. 
“Out with it. I know you are going to say 
something disagreeable. That will do for the 
overture.” 

“I must say one word to prepare you, old 
man,” suddenly standing up, laying his hand on 
his companion’s shoulder, and looking down into 
his face. “It is a fatal mistake to expect too much 
in life — to be too sanguine I Doji’t — don’t be too 
sure that she ivants to come back.” 


166 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XVI 

TWO VISITS AND A LETTER 

Miss West returned from her drive. She had 
been to Lord’s to see the Oxford and Cambridge 
cricket match. She had been surrounded by ad- 
mirers, like flies round a pot of honey, and had 
the most eligible partis of the season endeavor- 
ing to win their way to her good graces as she 
promenaded up and down between the innings, 
and partook of tea and strawberries in the tents ; 
and Lady Rachel (who had her own diversions) 
looked on and said to herself, “That Madeline 
was becoming much too run after, and Tony 
would have to mind what he was about. ” Mean- 
while, Mr. West, for whose society there was no 
competition, hugged himself with joy, as he saw 
a baronet and a baron approach Madeline in turn. 
This was precisely as it should be I Then he 
went up to Lord Tony and said, “I say, Tony, 
wasn’t that the Duke of Margate I saw you talk- 
ing to just now — a funny old Johnny, with a 
shabby hat and rod face?” 

«‘Ye-e-s — I — I believe so,” shrinking instinc- 
tively from what he knew was to follow— as per 
usual. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


167 


^‘Then just, when you get a nice little opening, 
introduce me^ there’s a good fellow. Watch him 
when he comes out of the long tent; he is having 
tea with the FitzMorse Montagues. I’ll do as 
much for you another time.” 

Lord Tony dreaded these demands. Ele even 
went so far as to hide frpm Mr. West, or to ab- 
sent himself altogether from gatherings where 
they were likely to meet. He had introduced 
his sister to the Wests. He liked Madeline 
immensely. His aunt. Lady Clapperclaw, had 
called, and Miss West had got cards from a few 
good houses, but he really drew the line at pre- 
senting ‘‘the old squatter,” as Mr. West was 
nicknamed by all his acquaintances. People did 
not like it. They glared fiercely when this dap- 
per, well-dressed, white-spatted, white-hatted 
little person was introduced to them — a man 
who bowed and talked, and talked and grinned, 
exactly like a toy monkey! Confound Tony 
Foster, who the deuce was this infernal little 
cad? What was Tony about? He was always 
mixed up with a second-rate set, but why thrust 
his shoddy friends on them? However, when it 
came to be hinted that the “squatter” was roll- 
ing in money, and dying to spend it — literally 
panting to give entertainments of the costliest 
description — a second Monte Cristo, with a spirit 
of unbounded generosity and one lovely daughter 
— matters took a different complexion. Mr, 
West was elected to a couple of good clubs, some 
visiting-cards and invitations were left on Mr. 
and Miss West by footmen who had descended 


168 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


from coroneted landaus. Ladies with slim, smil- 
ing, scapegrace sons called on the heiress. Fast 
young married women, who looked forward to 
dances and all manner of festivities, called (and 
made their friends leave cards). Young men 
who had seen and admired Miss West got in- 
troduced, and dropped in on Sundays. Lord 
’ Moneycute, an elderly baron, who had long been 
looking for a wife with money, also Sir Crete 
Levanter, called — and they subsequently dined 
— frequently at 365. Many people whom the 
ignorant colonial thought smart, grand, and 
distinguished, called; but it was not all gold 
that glittered ; there was a groat deal of brass 
about some of these visitors ! On the other hand, 
pretty mammas, with daughters who were in the 
best set, set their faces against these parvenus. 
Mammas with rich and titled sons were equally 
stand-off. One or two great ladies, who had 
been introduced, as it were, accidentally to Miss 
West, cut her at once. 

But the Wests were as yet ignorant of the 
lights and shades of London society, and they 
were both — Mr. West especially — perfectly satis- 
fied that, though not in the Marlborough House 
set, they were close upon its borders. 

‘‘A gentleman had called to see her, ” mur- 
mured Miss West, languidly, as she drew off her 
gloves on the threshold of the morning-room. 
“Did he leave his card?” 

“No, ma’am, he did not; he said he had for- 
gotten it.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


169 


“And he asked for me — not for Mr. West?” 
she continued indifferently, glancing at her par- 
ent, who was rapidly turning over a pile of notes, 
and picking out those emblazoned with a coro- 
net. 

“I’ll tell you who it was,” he broke in; “it 
was Lord Maltravers. He came about that 
macaw he promised you.” 

“ISTo, sir,” put ill Jeames, firmly but respect- 
fully; “it was no gentleman I ever saw before — 
certainly not Lord Maltravers — though he might 
have been a lord for all I know to the contrary.” 

“It wasn’t a tradesman?” 

“Oh, no, sir!” most emphatically. 

“What was he like?” inquired Madeline, open- 
ing a letter very deliberately as she spoke, her 
thoughts very far away from Laurence. 

“Well, ma’am, he looked quite the gentleman. 
He was tall, about my ’ight” (complacently), 
“very dark eyes, a short beard — wdiat you’d 
consider a ’andsome young man. He carried 
a queer-looking stick with a ivory top, and he 
seemed disappointed as you were not at home.” 

“A queer-looking cane with an ivory top, and 
he seemed disappointed!’’ The letter fluttered 
out of Madeline’s hands, and fell to the ground, 
as the unconsious Jeames thus blandly announced 
that the visitor had been her husband ! She was 
glad to stoop quickly, and thus hide her face, 
with its sudden increase of color. Laurence had 
come up to see her! What rashness! What 
madness I 

“Well!” exclaimed her father, looking at her 


170 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


sharply, “have you made out your mysterious 
visitor, eh? — eh? — eh? ’ 

“I think he must have been the brother of one 
of my schoolfellows from the description,” she 
said, with wonderful composure, tearing open 
another letter as she spoke. 

“Humph I” grunted Mr. West, in a tone that 
showed that schoolfellows^ brothers Avere not at 
all in his line. 

“Here is an invitation to Lord Carbuncle’s for 
Thursday week,” said his daughter, dexterously 
turning the current of his thoughts into a much 
less dangerous channel, and holding out the note 
for his perusal. 

“Thursday week. Let’s see; what is there 
for Thursday week, eh?” 

“We dine with the Thompson-Thompsons in 
Portland Place.” 

“Oh, dear me, yes, so we do,” querulously. 
“What a confounded nuisance!” in a tone of 
intense exasperation. “Can’t we throw them 
over?” 

But his daughter gave him no encouragement, 
knowing full well the enormity of throwing peo- 
ple over when a better engagement presented it- 
self, and that such proceedings were not counte- 
nanced by good society in Vanity Fair. 

S > Mr. West (who was cheered by another 
coroneted invitation-card) was fain to submit 
with what grace he could muster. 

The next morning Miss West resolved upon a 
bold step. She pleaded a headache as an excuse 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


171 


from attending Sandown^ and as soon as she had 
seen her parent safely off the premises, she hurried 
upstairs, dressed herself very plainly, put a black 
veil in her pocket — also a well-filled purse — and, 
walking to a short distance, took a hansom for 
Waterloo Station. This time she traveled first 
class, of course, aud hired a fly to take her to 
the farm — at least, to the lane leading to the 
farm — and there to wait, in case Mr. Holt was 
unable to drive her back. She desired to give 
every one an agreeable surprise. 

Mrs. Holt, who was in the kitchen shelling 
peas into a yellow bowl, gave a little scream 
when she beheld Mrs. Wynne standing on the 
threshold, between her and the sunshine, and, 
upsetting half the pods, rushed at her hospitably, 
wiping her hands on her apron, and assuring her 
that ‘‘she was more welcome than the flowers in 
May. Baby was well, and growing a rare size, 
but Mr. Wynne was out; he and the farmer had 
gone away together just after breakfast, and 
would not be back till late, and did ever any- 
thing happen so contrary?” 

Her square brow knit into lines of disappoint- 
ment when the young lady, in answer to her 
eager queries, informed her that she was not 
come to stay — that, in fact, she was going to 
Ireland in two or three days with her father and 
a party of friends. He had taken the shooting 
of a large estate in the south, and was most 
anxious to inspect it. 

“Ay, dearie, dearie me!” said Mrs. Holt, after 
an eloquent pause, “and what ivill Mr. Wynne 


172 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


say to that? I’m thinking he will not be for let- 
ting you go,” and she shook her head dubiously. 

This was precisely the subject that Madeline 
had come to discuss with’ him, and he was away 
for the day. How excessively provoking and 
tiresome ! 

Mrs. Kane had been won over with money, 
Mrs. Harper with valuable presents, and the 
hint of an invitation to stay at Belgrave Square. 
There remained but Laurence to deal with. He 
really must learn to be patient — to wait for the 
auspicious moment when, having .gained the 
whole of her father’s confidence and affection, 
he began to realize that she was so absolutely 
necessary to his happiness and to his social suc- 
cess that he could never spare her. Then, and 
not till then, would she throw herself into his 
arms and confess to him that she was married 
to Laurence Wynne. Laurence and the baby 
would be brought to Belgrave Square in tri- 
umph, and share her lot in basking in the sun of 
wealth and luxury. This was Mrs. Wynne’s 
nice little programme, and ten times a clay she 
repeated to herself this formula— “Laurence 
must wait.” 

She kissed her little boy, and praised his rosy 
cheeks, and asked many questions about her hus- 
band, and was so surprised to hear that he wrote 
for hours and hours; but Mrs. Holt rem‘arked 
that she took no interest now in the chickens, 
calves, or dogs — or, what she once found irresis- 
tible, the dairy! 

Also Mrs. Holt’s quick woman’s eye did not 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


173 


fail to notice her blazing rings when she pulled 
off her gloves, her valuable little wristlet- watch, 
which she consulted nervously from time to time, 
her plain but expensive dress, that rustled when 
she moved. Ah! she could see — although she 
tried not to show it — that Mrs, Wynne had 
changed. Her mind was possessed now by 
riches, and he, poor young man, would never 
be able to keep her contented, now she had had 
the taste of money, and knew what it was to 
be a great lady; and Mrs. Holt shook her head 
wistfully, as she made a red-currant tart. Mean- 
while Madeline carried baby down to the gate 
and looked out for Laurence, but no Laurence 
came, and baby was surprisingly heavy. Then 
she went round the garden. Oh, how small it 
looked somehow, and there was horrid green 
weed on the pool ! Then she made her way into 
their sitting-room, with its old glass book-case, 
brass- faced clock, samplers hanging on the walls, 
and plain red tiles underfoot. A dainty summer 
breeze was playing with the white curtains 
through the open lattice, and the great holly- 
hocks and sunflowers were rearing their heads 
and endeavoring to peep in from the garden. 
There was Laurence’s pipe; there, in a corner, 
stood the stick which had betrayed him; and 
there was his writing, just as he had left it — 
ruled sermon paper. No, not a letter! What 
was it all about? And she took it up and glanced 
over it. It was some rubbish, headed, “Middle- 
aged Matrons.” How absurd! 

Then, on the spur of the moment, she called 


174 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


in Mrs. Holt, and consigned Master Harry to 
her motherly arms, while she sat down to indite 
a letter to Laurence, with his own favorite pen 
and at his own table. 

“Dear Laurence” (she said) — “I came down 
on purpose to see you, and am so dreadfully dis- 
appointed to find you. are out, for I dare not wait, 
and I had so much to say to you. I am delighted 
to find baby so grown, and to hear such good 
accounts of yourself. I believe you were at Bel- 
grave Square yesterday. Laurence, how could 
you be so rash? Fortunately, no one suspected 
who you were, or that you were anything to 
Miss West. I feel quite another person than 
Miss West now that I am down in the country, 
and looking out of the window in front of me 
into this dear old garden and the faraway wooded 
hills. 

“I feel as if money was nothing in comparison 
to youth and domesticity and peace, and that I 
could be happy here forever with you; but I 
know that, once back in my own boudoir this 
very self-same evening, I shall change my mind 
again, and look upon rustic life as intolerable — 
a living death, a being buried alive without a 
fashionable funeral. Money and money’s worth 
I must attain; love I have. I wish to command 
both — love and money. We know what love is 
without money, don’t we? I shall never, never 
change to you, Laurence, you may rely on that. 

“I received your last letter safely, and have 
laid to heart all you say; but, dear, dear Laur- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


175 


ence, you must let me take my own time with 
papa. I will tell him sooner or later; but, in- 
deed, I am the best judge of how and when and 
where. You used to say I was foreseeing and 
prudent and wise, in the days of No. 2. Surely 
I am not changed in three months’ time! Leave 
it all to me. He will come round yet, and, like 
the good people in the fairy-tales, we shall live 
happy ever after. On Sunday night we all go 
to Ireland by the mail from Euston. It is quite 
a sudden idea. Papa has given up the idea of 
the Scotch moors, and was talked into taking 
this shooting and deer-forest and castle by an 
agreeable Irish nobleman he met at his club. 
There is every inducement to sportsmen, from 
red deer to black cock, as well as three thousand 
acres of ground and a castle. 

“We are to have a succession of visitors. I 
hope to do great things in three months, and will 
write to you ever week and report progress. 

“Ever, dear Laurence, your loving wife, 

“M. W.” 

His loving wife put this effusion into an en- 
velope, directed it, and placed it on the mantel- 
piece, where it would be sure to catch his eye, 
and then she felt considerably relieved in heart 
and mind, and had tea in the kitchen with Mrs. 
Holt, turning the cakes and praising the butter, 
and softening Mrs. Holt’s feelings the longer 
she stayed in her company. Then she had a 
confidential chat about baby and his clothes, and 
placed twenty pounds in her listener’s hand for 


176 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


his wardrobe, in spite of that good woman’s 
protestation that it was just five times too much. 
She also made the farmer’s wife a substantial 
present of money, telling her very prettily, with 
tears in her eyes, that it was not in return for 
her kindness, for no sum could repay that^ but 
as a small token of gratitude. 

By various means she reinstated herself in 
Mrs. Holt’s good graces, and having hugged the 
baby and kissed him over and over again, and 
taken a hearty leave of her hostess, she set off 
briskly on foot to where the patient fly awaited 
her. She paused at the end of the lane, and 
looked back on the Holt farm. It was a home- 
ly, sequestered spot, buried in fields and trees, 
and very peaceful; but it looked somehow moi'e 
insignificant — shabbier than she had fancied. 
How small the windows were! How close it 
stood to the big yard, with its swarming poultry 
and calves and dirty duck-pond ! And what hor- 
rible knives and spoons Mrs. Holt used, and 
what fearful shoes she wore! However, she 
was a good old soul, and had taken great care of 
baby. Then she once more turned her back on 
the farm, and set her face toward her father’s 
luxurious mansion. Luckily for herself, she was 
home before him — was dressed, and sitting half 
buried in a chair, engrossed in a novel, when he 
returned in high good humor. He had been 
winning and losing in the best of company, and 
was very eloquent about a certain Roman prince 
who had been uncommonly pleasant, and had 
said he ‘‘would like to be presented to you. Made- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


177 


line!’^ His little hard head was so full of this 
new acquaintance that he had not room for a 
thought as to where or how his daughter had 
spent the day. Indeed, from all evidence to the 
contrary, she might never have been out of the 
house. 

Laurence found Madeline’s letter staring at 
him from the mantel-piece when he came home. 
He snatched it eagerly, and devoured it then and 
there, and as he came to the last line his sensa- 
tions were those of exceedingly hitter disappoint- 
ment — yes, and something more, he was hurt. 
It seemed to him that through the epistle ran an 
undercurrent of jaunty indifference, and this cut 
him to the quick. 

And she was going to Ireland for three months ! 
W ell, at any rate he would see her off ; a rail- 
way station was open to the public. She need 
not necessarily see him; but he would see her. 
The next day he carried out his intention, travel- 
ing up to town early in the morning, visiting his 
chambers, dining with his friend Jessop, and 
being in good time to speed the Irish mail at 
Euston. He watched and waited, and saw 
many parties approach; but yet not his par- 
ticular party. They did not appear until within 
five minutes of the departure of the train. 

And what a fuss they made! More than all 
their predecessors put together. There was one 
footman running for tickets, another being car- 
ried madly along the platform in tow of two 
powerful setters, one retainer had the booking of 
the luggage, another was arranging the interior 


17 S 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


of their Pullman sleeping' car, and then the party 
came up to it, and Laurence beheld his father- 
in-law for the first time — a neat, trim, bustling 
little man, talking ^vociferously and gesticulating 
about Lady Rachel’s luggage. There was a v^ery 
well-dressed, dark little woman, not young, but 
juvenile in air and style, who laughed- and talked 
incessantly to a big man in a tweed suit, and 
looked at Mr. West with contemptuous grimaces, 
and shrugged her shapely shoulders. There was 
a “lout” in wonderful knickerbockers — so he 
mentally ticketed Lord Tony. There was a tall 
girl in a sort of long racing-coat. There were 
two lady’s-maids; and last, -but not least, there 
was Madeline — Madeline so altered that he could 
scarcely believe his eyes — Madeline in a regal 
traveling-cloak, carrying a Chinese lap-dog, giv- 
ing directions to hurrying footmen and maids, 
and dispensing smiling adieux among a group of 
young men who had cometosee them off — mean- 
ing Miss West. This was surely not his Made- 
line — the little schoolgirl he had married, the 
devoted, struggling, hard - working wife and 
mother, late of 2, Solferino Place. He stood 
back for a moment in the shadow of the book- 
stall, and realized for the first time the im- 
mense gulf that divided him from Mr. West’s 
heiress — the great yawning chasm which lay 
between him and Madeline. What would fill 
it — what? He could think of no bridge but 
money. 

Very poignant were his thoughts as he stood 
thus — jioor, aloof, and alone, while his radiant 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


179 


wife made her beaming farewells from the win- 
dow of the Pullman car. 

“She should say good-by to him too,” he de- 
clared to himself, with sudden fierce resolve, 
and, stepping forward, he stood out in the full 
light, a little apart from the gay group who 
were now removing their hats with a real or sim- 
ulated air of regret as the great long train, that 
was to carry the popular heiress westward, be- 
gan slowly to move. Madeline smiled and 
nodded and waved her hand. But who was 
that standing a little aside, further down the 
platform? It was Laurence — Laurence, whom 
she had not beheld for three months. It gave 
her quite a shock to see him — but a pleasant 
shock, that sent the blood tingling through her 
veins. 

How well he looked! — quite himself again; 
and how well he contrasted with these gilded 
youths whom she had just (she hoped) seen the 
last of ! She would have blown him a kiss had 
she dared; but her father’s little beady eyes were 
upon her, and she could only sit and look — she 
might not even bow ! Then, with sudden com- 
punction, and justly alarmed by the expression 
on his face, she leaned quickly out of the window 
and nodded and smiled. 

The other young men accepted this final signal 
with demonstrations of rapture. Little did they 
guess that it was not for them, but for that quiet, 
gentlemanly-looking fellow a few 3^ards to their 
left. If tliey were not aware of this, he was. 

“Who is that man on the platform,” said 


180 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Lad^^ Rachel, “that looks as if he was seeing us 
off, too? There is no one else in the car but our- 
selves.” 

“Oh, I’m sure I don’t know,” responded Mr. 
West. “There are heaps of people going ov^er, 
though I dare say he belongs to the Ravenstayle 
party. Lord Ravenstayle is in the train. It 
would not surprise me if it were his nephew, 
Cosmo Wood wing — aristocratic-looking sort of 
chap — and took a good stare at you, eh, Mad- 
die?” facetiously. “Will know you again next 
time he sees you?” — highly delighted at his own 
conceit. “I suppose you have no idea who he 
is, eh?” 

Madeline had an excellent idea of who he was, 
but this was no time to confide her secret to her 
parent — better to save this little domestic bomb 
for a more discreet opportunity. 

Madeline had a shrewd idea that the myste- 
rious gentleman who had taken a good long look 
at her — the presumable Lord Cosmo Wood wing 
— was her own husband ! 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


181 


CHAPTER XVli 

GONE TO IRELAND 

Laurence Wynne stood upon the platform 
and watched the Irish mail — ‘‘The Wild Irish- 
man’’ — wind its great long body slowly out of the 
station — watched till the red light, like a fiery 
eye, became smaller and smaller, and disap- 
peared from view. Then he hurried off to Wat- 
erloo to catch his own train — which he missed — 
and, going by the next, walked from Guildford, 
a distance of twelve miles, arriving home at one 
o’clock in the morning, to the intense relief of 
Mrs. Holt, who had been sitting up for him in a 
nightcap of portentous dimensions, and who, see- 
ing that he looked tired and dusty, and what she 
mentally termed “down,” was disposed to be a 
very mother to him, even to setting a cold sapper, 
before him at that unparalleled and improper 
hour, and staying him with a flagon of her own 
home-brewed ale — a sure token of fav^or. 

“And so she’s gone!” she exclaimed at last, 
when she could absolutely contain herself no 
longer. “Actually gone to Ireland.” 


182 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


“Yes, Mrs. Holt, she is gone,” acquiesced her 
lodger, coolly. 

“And goodness knows when slie will come 
back,” she continued indignantly. “Dear, dear, 
dear I I wonder what m ij master would say if 
I’d a done the like — just walking olf and leaving 
him and an infant to fend for themselves; but I 
suppose fine folk is different, and don’t mind?” 
giving her cap-frills a mighty toss. 

Laurence said nothing. He was not going to 
tell this worthy and virtuously irate matron that 
he did mind very much. I^o matter how he felt 
himself, he would have every one else think well 
of Maddie. He would hardly admit to his own 
heart .that she was no’t quite perfect, that he 
was beginning to feel sorely jealous of her father, 
her fine surroundings, and her fashionable 
friends. However, there was no use in think- 
ing; what he had to do was to work, and en- 
deavor to win for himself name, fanie, and fort- 
une. 

The next morning he set himself to make a 
real beginning. He packed up his slender be- 
longings, he took his Iasi; walk round the fields 
and garden with Farmer Holt, he consigned his 
son to the care of his kind hostess for the pres- 
ent, and, promising to run dowji often and look 
them up, he, in his turn, was taken to the sta- 
tion by the chestnut colt, and departed to make 
a fresh start in life, while the burly farmer stood 
on the platform and flourished his adieux with 
a red-spotted handkerchief. Then, returning 
slowly home, agreed with the missus in finding 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


183 


the place ^‘suminat lonely-like now,” in missing 
their late inmate, and in praising him up to the 
skies. Mrs. Holt was inclined to improve the 
occasion by drawing invidious comparisons be- 
tween Mr. Wynne and his wife. “She was not 
like him —he had more true worth in his little 
finger than she had in the whole of her body,” 
etc. 

But the worthy master, who had not been 
blind to Madeline’s pretty face and fascinating 
smiles, would not listen for a moment to such 
treason, and told his better half, rather sharply, 
to “hold her tongue I” 

Laurence Wynne took up his quarters in the 
Temple temporarily — in a set of gloomy old 
chambers, with small narrow windows and small 
panes, looking out on nothing in particular — at 
any rate he had no view to distract his attention 
from his work, and of work he had plenty. 

His friend Jessop (unlike some so-called 
friends), having got a good start up the ladder 
of law, reached back a hand to his struggling 
schoolfellow ; and an opening — a good opening — 
was all that his struggling schoolfellow required. 
His brains, his ceaseless industry, his good ad- 
dress, and his handsome appearance did the rest. 
He was far cleverer than his friend Jessop, and 
had twice his perseverance and talent for steady 
application. Jessop could keep a bar dinner in a 
roar of laughter, but Wynne could hold^ as it 
were, in his hand, the eyes and ears of a jury. 
He had a natural gift for oratory; he had a 
clear, sonorous voice; he was never at a loss for 


184 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


a word — the right word; never said too much, 
or too little; never lost an opportunity of making 
a point, or of driving home an argument. In 
short, among the juniors he was a pearl of price. 
His brilliant articles of biting satire, which were 
read by everyone, had brought his name up, and 
his name had been speedily followed by his ap- 
pearance in person — his appearance in a success- 
ful case. In short, a tide in his affairs had come, 
and he had taken it at the flood, and the little 
skiff “'success” was sailing over the waves in 
gallant style. 

He had been most fortunate in one or two 
minor cases; he could not afford to be careless, 
like great men who had made their reputations. 
He began to be spoken of as a very rising junior, 
and to be consulted on crochety points of law, 
to be listened to whenever he opened his lips, to 
be asked out to many professional dinners, and 
to receive — oh, joy! — not a few briefs on which 
the name of Laurence Wynne was inscribed in a 
round, legal hand. 

Yes, he was getting on rapidly. He could now 
afford to pay well for the maintenance of Master 
Wynne, to make handsome presents to the Holts, 
to allow himself new clothes and books, and the 
luxur}" of belonging to a good club. 

And what about Mrs. Wynne all this time? 

Madeline was rather agitated by so unexpect- 
edly beholding her husband on the platform the 
night they left for Ireland. Her heart beat fast, 
and her eyes were rather dim as they lost sight 
of his figure in the crowd. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


185 


“Poor Laurence! How fond he was of her,” 
she said to herself, with a sharp pang of com- 
punction. “Fancy his coming up all that way, 
for just one glimpse, one little look across the 
crowd !” But, latterly, Madeline W est had been 
so overwhelmed with attention that she now took 
many things as a matter of course, and but a 
proper tribute to her own importance. 

She and Lady Eachel occupied the same sleep- 
ing compartment, and her ladyship, who was an 
old and experienced traveler, wasted no time in 
gazing dreamily out of the window like Made- 
line, bnt took off her hat and dress and lay down 
in her berth, and was soon asleep, while the 
other sat with her eyes fixed on the dusky coun- 
try through which they were passing, asking 
herself many disturbing questions, and fighting 
out a battle in her own breast between Laurence 
and luxury. At times she had almost resolved 
to tell her father all within the next twelve hours, 
and to accept the consequences, whatever they 
might be. She was wrong to deceive him; she 
was wrong to leave Laurence and the child. 
Yes; she would do the right thing at last— con- 
fess and go back. 

With this decision laboriously arrived at, her 
mind was more at ease — a load seemed lifted 
from her brain; and she laid her head on her pil- 
low at last and fell asleep. 

But morning brings counsel — we do not say 
that it always brings wisdom. In the cool, very 
cool dawn, as she sat on the deck of the “Ire- 
land” and watched the sun rise and the shores 


186 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


of Erin rise into view, her courage ebbed away; 
and as she partook of a cup of hot coffee at Kings- 
bridge Station, and encountered her father, who 
was exceedingly short in his temper, owing to a 
bad night’s rest, her good intentions melted as 
snow before the sun. No, no, she told herself; 
she must %yait until her parent was in a more 
genial, indulgent mood. To speak now would 
be fatal, even supposing there was an opportu- 
nity for a few moments tete-a-tHe. 

The party traveled down at express speed to 
Mallow Junction, and from there a short rail 
journey brought them near their destination. It 
was four o’clock on a superb August afternoon 
as they drove up to Clane Castle. The owner 
and agent had not misled the new tenants; it 
was a castle, a fine commanding structure tucked 
under the wing of a great purple mountain, and 
was approached by an avenue that wound for a 
full Irish mile through a delightful demesne. 
What oaks! what beeches! what green glades 
and scuttling rabbits! what cover for woodcock! 
and, outlined against the sky-line on the moun- 
tain, was that a deer? 

The exclamations of pleasure and astonishment 
from his daughter and his guests made Mr. 
West’s tongue wag freely. 

“Yes; it’s a fine place. I said, ‘None of your 
picnic shanties for me.’ I said, ‘I must have a 
decent house and a fair head of game — money 
no object,’ ” he explained volubly, as he strutted 
before the party into a noble dining-room, where 
a very recherche meal awaited them. 


MAKKIED OR SINGLE? 


187 


The travelers, fortified by an excellent repast, 
and filled with an agreeable sense of well-being, 
repaired to their several chambers to get rid of 
their dusty garments, and met once more in the 
library, and sallied forth to see the place, Mr. 
West acting as guide and circerone, and conduct- 
ing his followers as if he had been born on the 
premises. The eyes of appreciative sportsmen 
sparkled as they took in the miles of mountain, 
the forests, the extent of heather, stretching 
widely to the horizoi], and felt more than ever 
that little West, by Jove! knew what he was 
about when he asked a fellow to shoot, and did 
you right well. 

Besides the far-reaching mountains, there were 
other attractions — a lake and boathouse, a fine 
garden and pleasure-ground, a tennis-court, and 
— oh, joy! — a capital billiard-table. Every one 
expressed their delight with the castle, the scen- 
ery, the weather, and soon settled down to enjoy 
themselves in their several ways. 

The twelfth of August produced a splendid 
bag of grouse, surpassing even the head-keeper’s 
fondest prediction. Every one of the neighbor- 
ing “quality” called of their own free will. 
There were celebrated tennis-parties, and din- 
ners at the Castle (Mr. West had brought his 
own cook), and the fame of the excellent shoot- 
ing went far and near. Mr. West was jubilant; 
he felt a grand seigneur. Never had lie been a 
personage of such importance, and he actually 
began to look down on his London acquaint- 
ances. 


188 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘The shooting is Al — every one knows that,’^ 
he said. “Courtenay wants to know how I like 
the place? — a deuce deal better than I like him; 
and Dafford writes to ask if I can give him a 
day or two?* I’m not very hot on Dafford. He 
wasn’t over and above civil, and he never got 
his sister, Lady Dovetail, to call; but he’d like 
to make use of me now. If I’m not good enough 
for him in London, he isn’t good enough for me 
here. Oh, no, Mr. Dafford; you don’t come to 
Clane Castle!” And putting his thumbs in the 
armholes of his waistcoat, Mr. West trotted up 
and down his daughter’s morning-room exuber- 
antly happy. 

Madeline was happy, too, but from other 
causes. The lovely scenery, the free yet luxu- 
rious life, the entire novelty of her surroundings, 
the impulsive, gay-spirited gentry, the finest 
peasantry in the world, with their soft brogue, 
wit, .blarney, and dark eyes, all enchanted her. 
The only little clouds upon her sky were a spirit 
of discontent among her English retinue, and a 
certain indefinable coolness and constraint in 
Laurence’s weekly letter. 


CHAPTER XVIII 

WANTED — A REASON 

The guests at the castle were, as notified in a 
local paper. Lady Rachel Jenkins and Mr. Jenk- 
ins, file Honorable Mrs. Leach, Lord Anthony 
Foster, Miss Pamela Pace, Miss Peggy Lumley, 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


189 


Captain Vansittart, and Major Mostyn, of the 
Royal Sedleitz Dragoons. 

The Honorable Mrs. Leach was a handsome 
widow, whose income was much beneath her re- 
quirements. She was acquainted with some 
colonials, who had come home in the same ship 
as Mr. West, and was indebted to them for an 
introduction to her present comfortable quarters. 
She haJ a smooth, slow sort of manner, a pair of 
wonderfully expressive eyes — and her own little 
plans. It did not suit her to walk with the 
guns, or join in long expeditions, entailing wear 
and tear of clothes, nerves, complexion, and 
tissues. She much preferred to lounge over a 
novel in the grounds, having breakfasted in her 
own room, and would appear at tea-time before 
the battered, sunburned, sun-blistered company, 
a miracle of cool grace, in a costume to corre- 
spond. And her brilliant appearance of an 
evening was a pleasure that was generally 
looked forward to. What toilets! — so rich, so 
well-chosen and becoming! What diamonds! 
(Yes; but these were the best French paste.) 
She made herself pleasant to every one, espe- 
cially to Mr. West, and treated Madeline almost 
as if she were some fond elder sister. 

Miss Pamela Pace was excessively lively — the 
soul of the party, always ready to shoot, ride, 
or fish; to play billiards, gooseberry, or the 
banjo; to dance or to act charades. She had 
a fund of riddles, games, and ghost stories. 
Without being pretty, she was neat, smart, and 
a general favorite. 


190 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Miss Lumley was her cousin and her foil— tall, 
fair, statuesque, and silent. However, she was 
a capital tennis and billiard player, and untiring 
pedestrian ; and, as Lady Rachel talked enough 
for two ordinary women, she made up for Miss ^ 
Lumley’s shortcomings. 

Lady Rachel was most anxious to get her 
brother settled — married to a nice girl, such as \ 
Madeline, with a large fortune, and she intended 
to forward the match in every way. She lost 
no opportunity of sounding Tony’s praises to 
Madeline, or of plying him with encouragement 
and advice. Advice, especially given as such 
for his own good, he shirked, as a child does 
physic. He admired Miss West; she was un- 
affected ; there was no nonsense about her ; she 
was handsome and ladylike. She would accept 
him, of course; and he really might do worse. 
He did not particularly want to marry her, or 
any one; but his income, no matter how well 
contrived and cut, was far too small for a man 
of his position. And money was a pleasant 
thing. 

AVound up by his anxious sister. Lord Tony 
had asked for and obtained Mr. West’s permis- 
sion to speak to his daughter, and now the only 
thing that remained to do was to ask the young 
lady to ratify the treaty. They had been nearly 
three weeks in Ireland, while this affair was 
quietly brewing. 

Madeline had no suspicion of her father’s 
wishes, or her suitor’s intentions; such an idea 
would have filled her — as it subsequently did — 


MARRIED* OR SINGLE? 


191 


with horror. She liked dancing and tennis, and 
amusing herself as much as other young women 
of her age; but the notion of any one falling in 
love with her, in her new and attractive char- 
acter, never once entered her brain. Pretty 
speeches and compliments she laughed at and 
turned aside; and it was generally mooted that 
che Australian heiress was as cold as the typical 
iceberg, and had a genius for administering the 
most crushing snubs if any one Ventured on to 
the borderland, yea, the very suburbs of love- 
making; and it had been hinted that either there 
was some pauper lover in the background, or 
that Miss West was waiting for a duke — English 
or foreign — to lay his strawberry leaves at her 
feet. She thought Lord Tony extremely plain, 
and rather stupid ; but he was so easily enter- 
tained, and cheer}^, and helped to make things 
go off well, that she was glad he formed one of 
the party. She had seen so much of him in 
London, she knew him better than any of their 
young men acquaintances; and he was always 
so good-^tempered, so unassuming, and so con- 
fidential, that she entertained quite a sisterly 
regard for him. 

Of Lord Anthony’s present views and inten- 
tions she had no more idea than her pet Chinese 
spaniel. If he was epris with any one, it was 
with the dashing Pamela, who told his fortune 
by cards, and played him even at billiards, and his 
proposal came upon her without any preparation, 
and like a bolt from the blue. The bolt fell in this 
fashion, and on a certain sleepy Sunday afternoon. 


192 


MAREIED OR SINGLE? 


Sunday at Clane had many empty hours. Mr. 
West was old-fashioned, and set his face against 
shooting, tennis, billiards, or even that curate’s 
own game — croquet. The hours after lunch were 
spent in smoking, sleeping, novel-reading, de- 
vouring fruit in the big garden, or sitting under 
the lime-trees. It was thus that Lord Anthony 
found Madeline, surveying the misty haze of a 
hot August afternoon with a pair of abstracted 
eyes. Mr. West had given him a hint of her 
whereabout, and that here was the hour, and 
he was the man ! 

“She is a cold, undemonstrative, distant sort 
of girl,” he explained. “She has never had a 
fancy, that I know of” (no, certainly as yet, he 
had not known of it). “She likes you, I am 
sure; it will be all plain sailing.” And, 
thus encouraged, the suitor figuratively put 
to sea. 

Madeline sat alone under the lime-trees in a 
low wicker chair, having been deserted by Lady 
Rachel, who had gone to have a comfortable 
snooze ere tea-time. 

It was a drowsy afternoon; the bees buzzed 
lazily over a bed of mignonette, which sent its 
fragrance far and near. Madeline’s book lay 
neglected in her lap. Her thoughts were far 
from it and Clane; they were with a certain 
hard-working barrister in London, who had writ- 
ten her a very rough, outspoken letter. Poor 
Laurence ! Why could he not wait? AVhy could 
he not have patience? He was beginning to get 
on so well. She had seen a long review of one 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


193 


of his articles in ‘‘Tooth and Nail.” He was 
becoming quite a literary celebrity. 

And, once he was up the ladder, even a few 
rungs, she would not feel the change so bitter, 
supposing her father was furious and implacable. 
Of course it would be a change ! And she sighed 
as she smoothed out her cambric gown — which 
had cost eighteen guineas — with a pretty, deli- 
cate hand, laden with magnificent rings. Could 
it be possible that those soft white hands had 
ever blackened grates and made beds and washed 
up plates? Oh, such greasy plates and dishes! 

“You seem to be in a day-dream, Miss West,” 
said Lord Anthony, as he approached, “and all 
the rest of the folk have gone to sleep.” 

“Have they?” she exclaimed. “Well, one 
cannot wonder ! It is a broiling afternoon, 
and, after that long sermon, you must make 
allowances.” 

“Oh, I’m always making allowances. I’m 
an easy-going sort of fellow, you know,” and he 
cast himself into a well-cushioned chair. “I 
want to have a little talk with you.” Hitching 
this chair nearer he added, “May I?” 

“Why, of course! But are sve in a talking 
humor? Isn’t it rather hot? Pray don’t bore 
yourself to entertain me ! I can always amuse 
myself,” and she slowly agitated her great green 
fan. 

“Yes; I suppose you can say ‘My mind to me 
a kingdom is’?” he asked, with a smile. 

“I think I can,” she answered languidly. 

“I wish I could say as much. My mind is a 


194 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


poor, barren, unpopulated country. I should 
like to take a trip into your territory, and share 
your pleasant thoughts, Miss West!” then sud- 
denly spurred by a recollection of a solemn prom- 
ise to his sister, and that he was wasting a golden 
opportunity, “I have something important to say 
to you.” 

“To say to mef^ she echoed, with raised 
brows. “What can it be? What makes you look 
so strange? You are not feeling ill, are you?” 

“111! No; but my mind is ill at ease. Can 
you not form an idea why?” leaning forward as 
he spoke, and looking straight into her eyes. 

His look was an illumination to Madeline. But 
as yet she did not think of herself ; she mentally 
glanced at lively Pamela, with her high spirits 
and low stature. She had seen her present com- 
panion carry his rather boisterous attentions to 
that young lady’s shrine. She amused him, and 
his loud, long laugh often resounded in her neigh- 
borhood. He was come to ask for her good 
offices; but she did not suppose that Miss Pam 
would be unusually difficult to win. 

“Oh, I think I have an idea now,” she mur- 
mured, with a significant smile. “I have 
guessed.” 

“You have?” he replied, in a tone of great 
relief. “And — and, may I venture to hope?” 

“I really cannot tell you. But I see no reason 
why you should not,” she returned reassuringly. 

“Madeline” — now moving his chair a whole 
foot nearer, and suddenly taking her hand — “you 
have made me the happiest of men!” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


195 


don’t think I quite understand you,” she 
replied, struggling to withdraw her fingers, and 
feeling desperately uncomfortable. 

‘‘Then I must speak out more plainly. I want 
you to promise to be my wife.” 

For a second she stared at him as if she could 
not credit her ears. Then she suddenly wrenched 
her fingers away, sprang to her feet, and stood 
facing him with crimson cheeks. 

“What do you mean? Are you — mad?” she 
asked sharply. 

“Mad? — no!” replied her suitor, both amazed 
and affronted. “One would think I was a dan- 
gerous lunatic, the way you behave. I am quite 
sane, and in deadly earnest. I have your father’s 
good wishes, Rachel’s good wishes — ” 

“My father’s good wishes!” she interrupted, 
her mind in a perfect tumult at this totally un- 
looked-for dilemma. 

“What is the matter with you, Miss West? 
Why are you so upset and agitated? Am I so 
totally unworthy? Is there anything so extrava- 
gantly strange in my wishing to marry you?” 

“Oh, no, no!” — endeavoring to control her 
feelings, and not gis^e herself away. “But — 
but — ” A scarlet wave rushed into her cheeks. 
But what would Laurence say? 

“Is it to be ‘Yes’ or ‘No’?” he pleaded. 

She simply shook her head, and drew back a 
step or two. 

He had never been so near to loving this tall 
pretty girl, standing under the lime-trees with 
fiushed, averted face, as now, when she shook 


196 


MARRIED OR SINGLE ? 


her head. ‘‘At least you will give me reasoHj^^ 
he demanded, rather sulkily. 

As the words left his lips he saw an odd change 
pass across her face, an expression that he could 
not understand. It was a look half of fear, half 
of contemptuous derision. 

“There is no reason,’’ she answered quietly, 
“beyond the usual one in a similar case. I do 
not wish to marry you.” 

“And why?” he asked, after an appreciable 
pause. 

“Well, really, I have never thought about 
you. Lord Anthony, but as a pleasant acquaint- 
ance. As an acquaintance I like you very much, ” 
she answered, with astounding calmness. “An 
acquaintance — but nothing more.” And she 
turned to take up her parasol. 

Opposition always roused Lord Anthony; it 
acted as a spur. In a short five minutes he saw 
everything from his sister’s point of view, and 
had suddenly developed a passion for Miss West. 

“Every marriage begins by an acquaintance. 
Perhaps in time,” he urged — “in a few short 
months, my dearest Madeline — ” 

“I am not your ‘dearest Madeline,’ Lord An- 
thony,” she interrupted quickly. “Pray con- 
sider the subject closed once for all; and remem- 
ber, for the future, that I am Miss West.” 

She was getting angry with his persistency. 
He was getting angry with her persistency. 

There ensued a long silence, unbroken by 
speech. And at last he said — ‘ ‘ There is some other 
fellow, of course. You are engaged already.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


197 


‘‘l am not. Oli, Pamela, I did not see you” 
— as that vivacious young lady suddenly came 
upon the scene with a strong escort of dogs. 

Prom her window she had noted the confer- 
ence, and had hastily descended in order to dis- 
cover what it might portend. A proposal! 
Well, if he had proposed, he had not been ac- 
cepted, she remarked to herself complacently. 

They both looked confused and ill at ease. 
Evidently they had been quarreling. Lord An- 
thony was ridiculously red, and Madeline was 
white as a sheet. 

“How delightfully cool and comfortable you 
two look!” she mendaciously ejaculated, sinking 
into Madeline’s chair with a gesture of exhaus- 
tion. “This is quite the nicest place, under these 
motherly old trees. I’ve been trying to sleep, 
but it did not come off. I was driven quite 
frantic by a diabolical blue-bottle that would 
not keep away from my face.” 

“I’m sure I don’t wonder,” said Lord An- 
thoii}^, who was recovering his good temper, 
which was never lost for long. 

“And so I came out. You will have tea here, 
Maddie, won’t you, like a duck?” 

“I’m not sure that ducks care for tea,” re- 
joined Madeline. “Their weakness is snails. 
But I’ll run in and order it. It must be after 
five.” And in another minute her tall white 
figure was half way to the castle, and Miss 
Pamela and Lord Anthony were alone. 

Both were eager to question the other in a deli- 
cate, roundabout way. Strange to say,. the man 


198 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


got out his query first. Throwing himself once 
more into a chair, and crossing his legs, he said — 
“Girls know girls and their affairs, as men 
know men, and are up to their little games. 
IN'ow, you saw a lot of Miss West in town. 
Same dressmaker, same dentist, same boot- 
maker. Look here, now; I want to know some- 
thing.” And he bent over and gazed into Miss 
Pam’s pale little dancing eyes. 

“I am quite at your service, ” she answered 
smilingly. “Her waist is twenty inches. She 
takes a longer skirt than you would think. She 
has no false teeth, and only a little stuff- 
ing in one back molar. Her size in shoes is 
fours.” 

“Bosh! What do I care about her teeth and 
her shoes? 1 want to know — and I’ll do as much 
for you some day — if Miss West has any hanger- 
on — any lover loafing round? Of course I know 
she had heaps of Johnnies who admired her. 
But did she seem sweet on them? ‘Lookers-on 
see most of the game.’ ” 

“Yes, when there is any game to see,” re- 
torted the young lady. “In this case there was 
none. Or, if there was, it was double dummy.” 
“No one?” he said incredulously. 

“No one,” she answered. “She talks like an 
old grandmother, who has been through every 
phase of life; talks in the abstract, of course. 
She has never, as far as I know, and in the lan- 
guage of romance, ‘smiled on any suitor.’ ” 
“Most extraordinary!” muttered Lord An- 
thony. A new woman who bars men. How- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


199 


ever, there is always the one exception; and, by 
George’’ — to himself — ‘‘I’ll have^ another try!” 


CHAPTER XIX 

A DISAGREEABLE INTERVIEW^ 

“Well!” said Mr. West, when he found him- 
self alone in the smoking-room with Lord An- 
thony. How much can be expressed in that 
exclamation. 

“It was not well, sir. She will have nothing 
to say to me. I had no luck.” 

“Do you mean with Maddie?” exclaimed her 
father, in a tone of fretful amazement. 

“Yes. I had a long talk with her, and she 
won’t have anything to say to me!” 

“What — what reason did she give you?” de- 
manded Mr. West. “What reason, I say?” 

“None, except that she did not wish to marry 
me; and she seemed to think that reason 

“And did you not press her?” 

“It was of no use; but, all the same, I intend 
to try again — that is, if there is no one else, and 
Miss West has no attachment elsewhere.” 

“Attachment elsewhere? Nonsense!” irrita- 
bly. “Why, she was at school till I came home 
— till she met me on the steamer with her gov- 
erness ! You saw her yourself ; so you may put 
that out of your head. She’s a mere girl, and 
does not know her own mind; but now mine, 


200 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


and if she marries to please me, I’ll settle forty 
thousand pounds on her on her wedding day, 
and allow her five thousand a year. It’s not 
many girls in England who have as much pinned 
to their petticoat; and she will have consider- 
ably more at my death. If you stick to Maddie, 
you will see she will marry you eventually. She 
knows you, and is getting used to you --coming 
in and out in London; and you have a great pull 
over other men, staying here in the same house, 
with lots of wet days perhaps !” 

The following morning Madeline was sent for 
by her father. He felt that he could speak with 
more authority from the ’vantage ground of the 
hearthrug in his own writing- room ; and after 
breakfast was the time he selected for the audi- 
ence. Evidently Madeline had no idea of what 
was awaiting her, for she came up to him and 
laid her hand upon his arm and gave him an 
extra morning kiss. 

suppose it’s about this picnic to the Devil’s 
Pie-dish?” she began. 

In no part of the world has the devil so much 
and such a various property as in Ireland— glens, 
mountains, bridges, punch-bowls, bits, ladders 
— there is scarcely a county in which he has not 
some possessions — and they say he is a resident 
landlord. 

Mr. West propped himself against the mantel- 
piece and surveyed her critically. She was cer- 
tainly a most beautiful creature— in her parent’s 
fond eyes — and quite fitted to be sister-in-law to 
a duke. ^ 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


201 


‘‘It’s not about the picnic; that must be put 
off, the day has broken. It’s something far 
more important. Ahem!” clearing his throat. 
“What’s all this about you and Foster?” 

“Why?” she stammered, coloring deeply, and 
struck by a peculiar ring in his voice. 

‘‘Whyf impatiently. “He tells me that he 
proposed to you yesterday, and you refused him 
pointblank; and now, in my turn, I ask why?” 

Madeline was silent. She began to feel very 
uncomfortable, and her heart beat fearfully fast. 

“Well, is it true?” he demanded sharply. 

“Yes, quite true,” fiddling with her bangles. 

“And may I know why you have said no to 
a highly eligible young man, of a station far 
above your own, the son of a duke, a man young, 
agreeable, whose name has never appeared in 
any flagrant society scandal, who is well -prin- 
cipled and — and — good-looking — a suitor who 
has my warmest approval? Come now.” And 
he took off his glasses and rapped them on his 
thumb nail. 

“I do not wish to marry,” she replied in a low 
voice. 

“And you do wish to drive me out of my 
senses! What foolery, what tommy rot! Of 
course, 3"ou must marry some day — you are 
bound to as rny heiress; and I look to you to 
do something decent, and to bring me in an 
equivalent return for my outlay.” 

“And you wish me to marry Lord Anthony?” 
inquired his unhappy daughter, pale to the lips. 
Oh, if she could but muster up courage to con- 


202 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


fess the truth! But she dared not, with those 
fiery little eyes fixed upon her so fiercely. 
“Father, I cannot. I cannot, indeed!” she 
whispered, wringing her hands together in an 
agony. 

“Why?” he demanded in a hoarse dry voice. 

“Would you barter me and your money for a 
title?” she cried, plucking up some spirit in her 
desperation, “as if I was not a living creature, 
and had no feeling. I have feeling. I have a 
heart; and it is useless for you to attempt to 
control it — it is out of your power!” 

This unexpected speech took her parent aback. 
She spoke with such passionate vehemence that 
he scarcely recognized his gay, cool, smiling, and 
unemotional Madeline. 

This imperious girl, with trembling hands, 
sharply knit brows, and low, agitated voice, was 
entirely another person. This was not Madeline, 
his everyday daughter. At last it dawned upon 
his mind that there was something behind it all, 
some curious hidden reason in the background, 
some secret cause for this astonishing behavior ! 
Suddenly griping her arm in a vise-like grasp, 
as an awful possibility stirred his iiifiammable 
spirit, he whispered through his teeth — 

“Who is it?” 

“Who is who?” she gasped faintly. 

Ah! now it was comiug. She shook as if she 
had the ague. 

“Who is this scoundrel, this low-born adven 
turer that you are in love with? Is it the man 
you knew at school? Is it the damned dancing- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


203 


master, or some half-starved curate? Is it him 
you want to marry? Madeline, on your oath,” 
shaking her in his furious excitement and passion 
of apprehension, ‘‘is it him you want to marry?” 
he reiterated. 

Madeline turned cold, but she looked full into 
the enraged face, so close to hers, and as he re- 
peated, “On your oath, remember!” she an- 
swered with unfaltering and distinctly audible 
voice, “On my oath — no/” She spoke the truth, 
too! Was she not married to him already? Oh, 
if her father only guessed it! She dared not 
speculate on the idea ! He would be worse, far 
worse than her worst anticipations. She could 
never tell him now. 

“Father, I have said ‘No,’ ” she continued. 
“Let go my hand, you hurt me.” With the 
utterance of the last word she broke down and 
collapsed upon the nearest chair, sobbing hys- 
terically. 

“What the devil are you crying for?” he de- 
manded angrily. “What I’ve said and done, I’ve 
done for your good. Take your own time, in 
reason; but marr^^ you shall, and a title. Fos- 
ter is the man of my choice. I don’t see what 
you can bring against him. We will all live 
together, and, for my own part, I should like it. 
You go to no poorer home, you become a lady 
of rank — what more can any girl want? Money 
as much as she can spend, a husband and a fa- 
ther who hit it off to a T, both only too anxious 
to please her in every possible way, rank, and 
riches; what more would you have, eh?” 


204 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


“Yes, I know all that!” gasped Madeline, 
making a great effort to master her agitation. 
She must protest now or never. “I know every- 
thing you would say ; but 1 shall never marry 
Lord Anthony, and I would be wrong to let you 
think so. I like him; but, if he persists, I shall 
hate him. I have said ‘No,’ once; let that be 
sufficient for him — and you!^’ Then, dreading 
the consequences of this rashly courageous 
speech, she got up and hurried out of the room, 
leaving her father in sole possession of the rug, 
and actually gasping for speech, his thin lips 
opening and shutting like a fish’s mouth — when 
the fish has just been landed. At last he found 
his voice. 

“I don’t care one (a big D) for Madeline and 
her fancies, and this thunder in the air has upset 
her. A woman’s no means yes; and she shall 
marry Foster as sure as my name is Robert 
West.” To Lord Anthony he said, “I’d a little 
quiet talk with Madeline, and your name came 
up. She admitted that she liked you; so you 
just bide your time and wait. Everything comes 
to those who wait.” 

To this Lord Tony nodded a dubious acqui- 
escence. The poor fellow was thinking of his 
creditors. How would they like this motto? and 
how much longer would they wait? 

“I told you she liked you,” pursued Mr. West 
consolingly — “she said so; so you have not even 
to begin with a little aversion. She has set her 
face against "marriage; she declared she would 
not marry, and what’s more — and this scores for 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


205 


you — she gave me her word of honor that there 
was no one she wished to marry. So it’s a clear 
course and no favor, and the best man wins. 
And remember, Tony,” said her shrewd little 
parent, thumping, as he spoke, that gentleman’s 
reluctant shoulder, “that I back you, and it’s a 
good thing to have the father and the money on 
your side, let me tell you.” 

Ten days went by very quietly — the calm after 
the storm. Mr. West never alluded to his 
daughter’s foolish speech, and kissed her and 
patted her on the shoulder that selfsame night, 
as if there had been no little scene between them 
in the morning. He was waiting. Lord An- 
thony, even in Madeline’s opinion, behaved beau- 
tifully. He did not hold himself too markedly 
aloof, and yet he never thrust his society upon 
her, or sought to have a word with her alone. 
He also was waiting. 


CHAPTER XX 

NOT “a happy couple” 

The postponed picnic to the Devil’s Pie-dish 
eventually came off. It took place on the occa- 
sion of what was called “a holiday of obliga- 
tion,” when no good Catholics are allowed to 
work, but must put on their best clothes and at- 
tend mass. As there were no keepers or beaters 
available, the shooting-men meekly submitted to 
their fate, and started to the mountains, for once, 


206 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


minus dogs and guns, and escorting a large as- 
sortment of ladies, in a break, landau, dog- cart, 
and jaunting-car. The morning was lovely; the 
treacherous sun smiled upon and beguiled the 
party to the summit of one of the mountains — a 
wild spot commanding a splendid view of river, 
forest, lake, and sea — a long, long climb, but it 
repaid the exertion. Luncheon was laid out in 
the Pie-dish, a green hollow between two peaks, 
and it was there discussed with great apprecia- 
tion. The festive party sat long. Gradually, 
almost imperceptibly, mists began to collect, 
clouds to gather; the scenery at their feet grew 
dimmer and yet dimmer, the hypocritical sun- 
shine vanished and gave way to rain, heavy, 
stinging rain. There was no shelter, not for 
miles, not a bush, much less a tree; but at a dis- 
tance some one descried what looked like a 
mound of stones, but proved to be a cottage. 
To this dwelling every one ran at their utmost 
speed. It certainly was a house — a little 
humped-back cot that seemed as if it had been 
in the act of running down hill and had sat 
down. It consisted of a kitchen and bedroom, 
and the former could scarcely contain the com- 
pany, even standing. There were one or two 
stools, a chest, .and a chair. The atmosphere 
was stifling, but ‘‘any port in a storm”; any- 
thing sooner than the icy, cutting rain that swept 
the mountain. When their eyes became accus- 
tomed to the place, it turned out that besides 
smoke and lipiis, it contained an old woman, who 
sat huddled up by the fire enjoying a pipe, and 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


207 


who stared stolidly and made no answer to eager 
inquiries for permission to remain. She was 
either stone deaf or silly, possibly both. But 
suddenly a barefooted girl entered, with a creel 
of wet turf on her back. 

“I see yees running, and yees are kindly wel- 
come, ’ ’ upsetting her load in a corner, and shaki ng 
out her wet shawl. ‘‘The grannie, there,” point- 
ing, “has no English ; His only Irish she can spake. ” 

“Irish! Oh, I’d like to hear it so much!” 
cried Miss Pamela. “Oh, do make her talk!” 
Exactly as if she were alluding to some mechan- 
ical toy, such as a talking-doll. 

“She’s not much of a talker, at all, miss — and 
she’s cruel old; and so many quality coming in 
on her at once has a bit stunned her. I’m sorry 
we are short of sates,” looking round, and prof- 
fering the turf creel to Lady Rachel. “And 
I’ve no tay, but lashins of buttermilk.” 

“Never mind anything, thank you,” said Mr. 
West pompously; “we have just lunched.” 

“Oh, an’ is that yourself, me noble gentleman, 
from the castle below! An’ ’tis proud 1 am to 
see yees. And here’s Michael for ye,” as a tall, 
dark countryman with long black whiskers en- 
tered, amazement at the invasion depicted in his 
dark blue eyes. 

“ ’Tis a wet day, Michael,” said Mr. West, 
who employed him as a beater. 

“ ’Tis so, yer honor.” 

“Do you think it will last?” asked Madeline. 

“I could not rightly say, miss; but I think 
not. It come on so sudden.” 


208 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 

' • 

“I suppose you have been to the town to 
mass?” 

‘‘Yes, sir; second mass.” 

“Did you meet any friends, Micky? Did you 
get a drink?” inquired Lord Tony, insinuat- 
ingly. 

“No, not to say a drink, sir.” . 

“Well, what?” 

“Just a taste.'" ^ 

“And if you were to be treated, Mick, what 
would you choose? Give it a name now,” said 
Lord Tony, genially. 

“Oh, whisky and porter!” 

“What, together?” 

“Ay. And why not? Sure, ’tis the best in 
many waj^s.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Faix! an’ with raison. If I drink porter I’m 
full before I’m drunk, ye see; if I drink whisky, 
I’m drunk before I’m full, and both together 
comes about right.” 

“Michael,” cried his wife, “’tis you as ought 
to be dead ashamed, talking in such a coarse, 
loose way before the ladies! Ye has them all 
upset, so ye has,” And, to make a diversion, 
she darted into the room and returned with (by 
way of a treat for the ladies) a baby in her arms. 
It had weak, blinking, blue eyes, was wrapped 
in an old shawl, and was apparently about a 
month old. However, it created quite the sen- 
sation its mother had anticipated. 

“Oh, Lord,” cried Mr. West, “a baby! I 
hate babies, though I like small children — espe- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


209 


cially little boys! Take it away before it starts 
screaming.” 

‘‘Oh, show it to me! Let me have it!” came 
simultaneously from several quarters, but in 
each case the baby received its new friend with 
a yell, and had to be promptly returned to its 
apologetic parent. Several had tried their hand 
upon it; Miss Pam, Mrs. Leach, Miss Lumley, 
and Lady Rachel, had been repulsed in turn. 

“Now, Maddie, let us see what way you would 
manage it, or if you know which end is upper- 
most!” said Lady Rachel, taking the child from 
its mother and laying it in Madeline’s arms. 

After a storm a calm! The irritable infant 
was actually quiet at last, and glared at his new 
nurse in silence, and while Madeline hushed it 
and rocked it and talked to it in a most approved 
fashion, the delighted mother and granny looked 
on with grateful surprise. And then the old 
lady made some loud remark in Irish, and 
pointed her pipe at Madeline. 

“What does she say? Oh, do tell us?” cried 
Miss Pamela, excitedly. “Do — do, please.” 

“Oh, miss, dear, I — I — faix, then I couldn’t!” 

“ ’Tis no harm whatever,” broke in Michael, 
with a loud laugh. 

“Then out with it!” commanded Mr. West from 
a corner, where he was sitting on a kist, sway- 
ing his little logs high above the ground, and 
fully expecting to hear some pleasant Irish com- 
pliment about his daughter doing everything 
well. 

“She says the lady has such a wonderful knack 


210 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


that she must have had great practice entirely, 
and ’tis a married woman she is, with a baby of 
her own 

This was not the description of speech that Mr. 
West or any one expected. He frowned heavily, 
looked extremely displeased, and growled out, 
“I think the old hag in the corner has been hav- 
ing some of your brew, Michael,’^ while the rest 
of the party set up a sudden buzz of talking, to 
hide the unfortunate remark of the venerable 
semi-savage. 

Poor Miss West! 'No one ventured to look at 
her save Lord Tony. She had bent her face over 
the baby, and her very forehead was crimson. 

The captious weather now made a diversion; 
it was going to clear. People began to shake 
their capes and hats, to fumble for their gloves. 
Mrs. Leach — it was well there was no looking- 
glass, for every one was more or less damp and 
disheveled — felt her faultless fringe was perfectly 
straight, her feathers in a sort of pulp, thanks to 
the torrents upon a Kerry mountain. The torrents 
had ceased entirely, the deceitful sun was shin- 
ing, and once more the picnickers sallied forth, 
not sorry to breathe a little fresh air. Mr. West 
had placed half a crown in Mrs. Riordan’s hand, 
and received in return many blessings ; but his 
daughter had pressed a whole sovereign into the 
infant’s tiny palm, ere she followed her father 
and guests over the threshold. 

And now to get home ! The short grass was 
damp, noisy rivulets trickled boastfully after the 
rain, but the mountains and low country looked 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


211 


like a brilliant freshly-painted scene: the hills 
were gay with gorse, cranberries, and bright 
purple heather, and dotted with sheep and little 
black cattle. The party now descended two and 
two — Lord Tony and Madeline the last. He 
was really in love with this pretty, tall girl who 
walked beside him, with a deer-stalker cap on 
her dark hair, a golf-cape over her graceful 
shoulders, and a lovely color, the result of rain 
and wind, in her charming face. The rain and 
wind had but enhanced /zcr beauty. Yes; they 
would get on capitally ; she would be not only a 
wife to be proud of, but a bonne camarade, ever 
gay, quick-witted, and good-tempered; a capital 
hostess and country gentleman’s helpmate. How 
well she got over the ground, how nimbly she 
scaled the stiles, and climbed the loose walls 
without bringing down half a ton of stones. 
Here was another opportunity : speak he ivoulcl. 
Gradually and clumsily he brought the subject 
round to the topic nearest his heart. His speech 
was half uttered, when she interrupted him, saying : 

‘‘Lord Anthony, I like you very much as a 
friend — ” 

“You need not offer me platonic friendship, 
because I won’t have it, and I don’t believe in 
it. No,” ho began impetuously. “And if you 
like me, I am quite content.” 

“Stop! Please let me finish. 1 like you so 
much that I am going to tell you a great secret.” 

‘ ‘ Y oil are engaged to be ma rried ? ’ ’ he exclaimed. 

“No; I am married already.” 

Lord Tony halted. She also came to a full 


212 - 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


stop, and they looked at one another in expres- 
sive silence. 

She was wonderfully cool, while he was crim- 
son with astonishment; his eyes dilated, his 
mouth quivered, his lower lip dropped. 

‘‘You are joking,” he gasped out at last. 

“No; indeed I am not.” 

“And where is your husband?” 

“He is in London. My father does not know 
that such a person exists.” 

“Great Caesar’s ghost!” 

“No; I have never dared to tell him yet. I 
married from school,” she continued, and in a 
few hurried sentences gave the outline of her 
story, omitting her husband’s name and profes- 
sion, and all reference to her small son. “You 
see how I am situated. I have not ventured to 
tell the truth yet, and I confide my secret to 
your honor and your keeping,” 

“Of course it is perfectly safe,” he began, 
rather stiffly, “and I feel myself very much hon- 
ored by your confidence, and all that.” 

“Oh, Lord Tony, please don’t talk to me in 
that tone,” she exclaimed, with tears in her eyes. 
“I told you — because — you are what men call ‘a 
good sort’ ; because I feel that I can rely upon 
you; because, though you like me, you don’t 
really care for me, you know you don’t; nor 
have I ever encouraged you or any man. My 
father is devoted to you; he is determined to — to 
— well — you know his wishes — and I want you 
to allow him to think that you have cooled, and 
have changed your mind. You — you understand?” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


213 


“And play the hypocrite all round?’’ 

“Yes, but only for a little while.” 

“Rather hard lines, when I have not changed 
my mind. Is Rachel in the swindle?” 

“No — oh, no! — no one but you and me and 
my husband, and a friend of his.” * 

“And pray when do you intend to discharge 
your little domestic bomb?” 

“When I go home. If I were to speak now, 
I should be turned out, probably on the hall door- 
steps, and the party would be broken up.” 

(Yes, and there were several good days’ deer- 
stalking still in prospect, thought Lord Tony, 
much as he was concerned at this recent as- 
tounding confidence.) “I know you are dread- 
fully vexed,” she said humbly; “but you will 
forgive me and stand by me, won’t you?” and 
she looked at him appealingly. She had really 
most lovely and expressive eyes; who could re- 
fuse them anything? 

“Meaning, that I am to neglect you openly, 
slight you on all occasions?” 

“There is a medium; you need not be too 
marked in your defection, unless you like” — with 
a short, hysterical laugh. 

“I don’t like the job at all, but I will lend 
you a hand, and be a party to the fraud. Who- 
ever is your husband, Mrs. What’s-your-name, 
is a deuced lucky fellow!” 

“Then it is a bargain, that you keep my secret?” 

“Yes; here is my hand on it!” 

At this instant (it is constantly the way) Mr. 
West paused and looked behind, and was ex- 


214 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


tremely pleased. He had intended to shout to 
this tardy pair to hurry on-> for the carriages 
were waiting, the horses, of course, catching 
cold. However, he must make allowances, un- 
der the circumstances. 

Evidently Tony had come to the point again, 
and been accepted. He hastened down the road 
in great delight, hustled the company into vari- 
ous vehicles, and departed in the landau vis-a- 
vis to Mrs. Leach (the wretched condition of her 
hair and complexion discounted many delightful 
recollections of her beauty) ; and he took care to 
leave the dog-cart behind, for the sole use of the 
happy couple. 

END OF PART ONE 



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Avthor of ''Diana Barrington,'^ "A Family Likeness," etc. 



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Diana Barrington,^' Family 
Likeness," etc. 



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HARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XXI 

AN INTERRUPTION 

It was certainly strange that Lord Tony had 
not sought him out the evening after the picnic, 
said Mr. West to himself, considering that it was 
all settled now. Indeed, it struck him that his 
future son-in-law pointedly avoided him, and 
had lounged out of the smoking-room when he 
found himself with him alone. Of course, Lord 
Tony was aware that his consent was granted, 
but he would have liked him to have come to him 
at once. The next day, despite an effort to escape, 
Mr. West captured his reluctant quarry en route 
to the stables, and said, as he overtook him, 
rather out of breath, ‘‘Well, my boy, I see you 
made it all right yesterday! Why have you not 
been to tell the old man — eh?” and he beamed 
upon him and poked him playfully with his cane. 

Lord Tony suddenly found himself in a very 
nice moral dilemma. Oh! here was a fix and 
no mistake! 

“There is nothing to tell yet, Mr. West,” he 
blurted out. 

“What! when I saw j^ou both philandering 

( 215 ) 


216 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


behind the party hand-in-hand, and — and — left 
you the dog-cart on the strength of it!” 

“Oh, I only took Miss West’s hand for a mo- 
ment — to — to ratify a promise.” 

“Promise of what?” impatiently. 

“A promise of her friendship,” stammered his 
companion. It was a moment of mental reser- 
vations. 

“Oh!” with an expression of deepest scorn. 
“That wasn’t the way we made love when I was 
a young man. What a miserable milk-and- 
watery set you are! Friendship f” 

“Yes, I know there is a falling off,” admitted 
Lord Tony, with humility. “But we are not as 
energetic in any way as the last generation. We 
prefer to take things easy, and to take our own 
time. Miss West is young — ‘marry in haste and 
repent at leisure,’ you know,” he pursued col- 
lectedly. ^‘You must not rush Miss West, you 
know. She — she — all she asks for is 

“Did she name any time?” 

“Er- well -no.” 

“I’m afraid you mismanaged the business — 
eh? You just leave it to me. Fll arrange it!” 

“No — no — no. That’s just the one thing I 
bar. Interference would dish the whole con- 
cern. I beg and implore of you to leave— a — 
well alone — for the present, at any rate. Miss 
West and I understand one another.” 

“I’m glad of that; for I’m blessed if I under- 
stand either oi you!” exclaimed his disgusted 
listener. 

“Ah! hullo, there goes Miss Pace, and I 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


217 


promised to play tennis with her. I must go 
and get my bat and shoes.” Exit. 

At the end of September the tide of enjoyment 
at Clane was at its height. Theatricals were in 
rehearsal — that fertile field for flirtation and 
fighting. The bags of the season had been en- 
viably heavy; the poor neighbors were sensible 
of a pleasant circulation of money and new ideas; 
prices were rising steadily. The wealthy neigh- 
bors appreciated Mr. West’s princely, hospitality, 
and spoke of him as ‘‘not a bad sort in his way, 
though a shocking little bounder.” Mrs. Leach 
had prolonged her visit, and her attentions to her 
host were becoming quite remarkable. He was 
not an ardent sportsman; his short legs were 
unaccustomed to striding over the heather-clad 
mountains; he did not want to shoot deer — in 
fact, he was rather afraid of them. So he left 
the delights of his shooting to well-contented, 
keen young men, and was easily beguiled into 
long saunters among the grounds and woods in 
the siren’s company. To tell the truth, they 
were not much missed, and they frequently 
rested on rustic seats, and talked to one another 
with apparent confidence — flattering confidence. 
He spoke of Madeline’s future— his earnest de- 
sire to see her suitably married. “A girl like 
her might marry a dnke; don’t you think so, 
Mrs. Leach?” 

“She might,” said the lady, but without a 
trace of enthusiasm in her voice— in fact, there 
was an inflection of doubt. “She is undeniably 
lovely, but — ” 


218 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘^But what?” 

— I am sentimental” (about as senti- 
mental as a charwoman), “and I have m3" own 
ideas. I think that dear Madeline has a private 
romance : that she either cares for some one whom 
she can never marry — ” 

‘ ‘ That’s nonsense, ’ ’ interrupted her companion, 
impatiently. “I have her word of honor that 
there is no one she wants to marr3L” 

“Oh, well, she may have loved and 
said the lady, sweetly; “for, speaking as a wo- 
man, it is inconceivable that a girl who is, or 
was, heart-free could be absolutely indifferent to 
every one. She has dozens of admirers, for she 
is not onl}" very pretty, but” — and she smiled 
enchantingly into Mr. West’s little e3^es— “very 
rich — your heiress. It is my opinion that Made- 
line has some little closet in her heart that you 
have never seen — that she is constant to some 
memor}". Of course, time tries all things, and 
in time this memory will fade; but I am posi- 
tive that dearest Madeline will not marr}^ for 
some 3"ears.” Then she tapped his arm play- 
fully. They were sitting side-by-side in a shady 
path in the vast pleasure grounds. “You will 
be married before her yourself .’I 

“I — I — marry ! I have never dreamed of such 
a thing.” 

“Wh,y not, pray? You are comparatively 
yonng. A man is always young, until he is 
reall}" going downhill. A man is young at fifty. 
Now, look at a woman at fifty !” and she paused 
expressively. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


219 


He turned his eyes upon her. Little did he 
suppose that he was contemplating a woman of 
fifty — a woman who was extravagant, luxurious, 
dreadfully in debt, almost at the end of her re- 
sources and her friends’ forbearance, and who 
was resolved upon marrying him whom she had 
once called ‘‘that vulgar horror, the little Aus- 
tralian squatter.” 

He looked at her with a rather shamefaced air 
and a grin. Alas ! flattery was hurrying him to 
destruction. She was an extremely handsome 
woman, of the Juno type — erect, stately, with 
bright, dark eyes^ dark hair, a short straight 
nose, and beautiful teeth (some were her own). 
She was dressed in a pale yellow muslin, with 
white ribbons, and wore a most fascinating pict- 
ure-hat and veil; her gloves, shoes, and sunshade 
were of the choicest, and it was not improbable 
that, in the coming by-and-by, Mr. West would 
have the pleasure of paying for this charming 
toilet. 

“A woman of fifty,” she pursued, “is an old 
hag; her day has gone by, her hour of retreat 
has sounded. She is gray, stout — ten to one, 
unwieldy — and dowdy. Now, a man of fifty 
shoots, hunts, dances as he did when he was 
twenty-five — in fact, as far as dancing goes, he 
is thrice as keen as the ordinary ball-room boy, 
who simply Vvon’t dance, and is the despair of 
hostesses !’ ’ 

“I’ve never thought of marrying,” he re- 
peated. “Never !” 

“No; all your thoughts are for Madeline, I 


220 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


am aware, and the alliance she is to make ; but 
my motto is, 'Live while you live; live your own 
individual life, and don’t starve on the scraps of 
other people’s good things.’ ” 

"Do you think any one would have me, Mrs. 
Leach?” he asked, as he leaned on his elbow and 
looked up into her glorious eyes. 

She was the Honorable Mrs. Leach, well-con- 
nected, fashionable, handsome, and — oh, climax! 
— "smart.” Yes, the idea was an illumination. 
How well she would look at the head of his table 
and in the landau ! 

"Dear Mr. West, how humble you are! I am 
sure you would — (she meant his money) — make 
any reasonable woman happy.” She glanced at 
him timidly, and looked down and played coyly 
with her chatelaine. 

What eyelashes she had, what a small white 
ear, what a pretty hand ! His own was already 
gently laid upon it, the words were actually on 
his lips, when a bare-headed page burst through 
an adjacent path breathless from running. He 
had a telegram in his hand, and halted the mo- 
ment he caught sight of his master, who instantly 
withdrew his hand and became the alert man of 
business. 

Mrs. Leach was a lady, so she was unable to 
breathe an oath into her mustache — had oaths 
been her safety-valve. She, hovrever, thought 
some hasty thoughts of round-faced i)ages who 
brought telegrams (which she kept to herself). 
Mr. West, however, was not so self-possessed. 
As soon as he cast his eyes over the telegram he 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


221 


gave vent to a loud exclamation of impatience, 
and then subsided into an inarticulate mutter, 
while the page and the lady devoured him with 
their eyes ! 

“Bad news, I’m afraid,” she said sympathet- 
ically. 

“Urn — ah, yes. My stockbroker in London 
has made a most confounded mess of some busi- 
ness Buys in when I tell him to sell out, I 
wish I had him by the ear this minute ” 

“Is there an answer, sir?” asked the page. 

“Yes; I’m coming in directly. Tell the fel- 
low to wait.” And Mr. West and the hand- 
some widow turned toward the house. 

This vile telegram had entirely distracted his 
ideas. His mind was now fastened on the Stock 
Exchange, on the money market ; he had not a 
thought to spare for the lady beside him. 

“It’s the twenty-ninth, is it not?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

“I must go home sooner than I intended. I 
shall have to be in London next week. The fox 
is his own best messenger” (and the fox was go- 
ing to escape!). 

Mrs. Leach had intended remaining in her 
present comfortable quarters for another fort- 
night. This odious telegram had upset her 
plans. 

“Then you will not return here?” 

“Oh, no. What would be the good of that?” 

“It seems a pity. You will be losing all the 
lovely autumn tints. October is a charming 
month.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


222 


“ Yes ; but it is not charming when some one at 
a distance is making ducks and drakes of your 
coin., and I’d rather see the color of my own 
money again than any autumn tint,” was the 
practical remark 

have had a most delightful visit here. I 
shall never, never forget dear Glane, nor all your 
kindness and hospitality.” 

‘‘You must come to us in London.” 

“Thank you so much, and I shall always be 
delighted to chaperon dear Maddie at any time. 
A girl like her is in such a difficult position. She 
is very young, you know, to go out without a 
married lady. Of course, you are a host in 
yourself; but — ” 

“But Lady Rachel and Mrs. Lorraine take 
Maddie out, you know,” broke in Mr. West, 
“and a girl can go anywhere with her father.” 

“Now there, dear Mr. West, I differ with you 
totally “indeed I do. A girl should have an 
older woman as well — a woman for choice who 
has no young people of her own, who is well- 
connected, well-looking, well-dressed, and who 
knows the ropes, as they say.” She was sketch- 
ing a portrait of herself. “And Madeline is so 
remarkably pretty, too, the observed of all ob- 
servers. I am so fond of her. She is so sweet. 
I almost feel as if she were my own daughter. 
Ah! I never had a daughter!” (But she could 
have a step-daughter; and if she was once estab- 
lished as Madeline’s friend and chaperon, the 
rest would be an easy matter.) 

‘ ‘ I am very sorry to have to leave Clane sooner 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


223 


than I expected; but business is business. Busi- 
ness first, pleasure afterward.” 

“And you have given us all a great deal of 
pleasure. 1 don’t know such a host anywhere; 
and it has been such a comfort to me to talk to 
you about my hateful law business, and to tell 
you things unreserveldy, and consult you. My 
odious brother-in-law, Lord Suckington, never 
will assist me, and I never seem to be out of the 
hands of my solicitors. Ah, here is your horrid 
telegraph boy waiting. May I go in and order 
tea, and pour you out a cup?” 

In ten days’ time the entire party had dis- 
persed. Ma,deline and her father traveled over 
to London. As the latter took leave of Mrs. 
Leach at Mallow Junction, and saw her into the 
Cork train, that warm-hearted lady, looking be- 
witching in a charming traveling-cloak and hat, 
leaned out of the window and whispered as she 
pressed his hand, “Good-by, or, rather, an re- 
voir. Be sure you write to me!” 

And was it possible that he had seen a tear in 
her eye? 


224 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XXII 

MR. WYNNE’S VISITOR 

And meanwhile what of Laurence Wynne? 
His short, smart sketches had made a hit. He 
was becoming a man of mark in literary as well 
as legal circles, and was overwhelmed with in- 
vitations to dinners, luncheons, and “at homes”; 
for be it known that Laurence Wynne was 
looked upon with favorable eyes by not a few 
mammas and daughters as a clever, rising, good^ 
looking young bachelor. Some had heard a 
vague rumor that there once upon a time had 
been a Mrs. Wynne, a girl whom he had married 
out of a lodging house or restaurant, but who, 
fortunately for him, had died in the first year of 
her m.arriage. Some said this was not true, 
some said it was. All agreed with extraordi- 
nary unanimity in never alluding to Mrs. Wynne 
in his company. After all, in these days of 
feverish haste, a story is soon forgotten, and 
people have too much to do to waste time in 
turning over the back pages of other folks’ lives. 
The ladies had not been slow in picking up sun- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


225 


dry hints and allusions to ‘‘Wynne,” as dropped 
across dinner tables by their husbands and 
fathers, and not a few hospitable families had 
made up their minds that they would cultivate 
Mr. Wynne. 

In vain they were assured that he was not a so- 
ciety man and hated ladies — which, of coiirse, was 
nonsense. He was busy and industrious, that 
was all; and now and then he did come out of 
his shell, and sit at their tables, and stand against 
the wall at their dances, and made himself so 
agreeable that he was figuratively patted on the 
back, and requested to come again; but he so 
seldom came again. 

It was part of his duty, he told himself, to be 
on good terms with his august seniors^ — to re- 
spond to their first invitations, to make himself 
pleasant to their wives and daughters, hand tea- 
cups, turn over music, open doors, talk suitable 
commonplaces; but when any of these same 
young ladies sat down, so to speak, before him, 
and commenced to open the trenches for a flirta- 
tion, he began to feel uncomfortable. Long ago, 
before he met Madeline West, this sort of thing 
was well enough — but even then a little of it had 
gone a long way. 

Now, with Madeline in the background, and 
amusing herself, no doubt very delightfully, and 
not thinking of him, he could not — no, he could 
not — like others less conscientious, laugh and ex- 
change sallies and cross swords and glances with 
any of these pretty, sprightly girls, knowing full 
well in his heart that he was all the time that 


226 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


wolf in sheep’s clothing — a married man! And 
then he was critical at heart, and hard to please. 

As he looked round the various groups at pic- 
nics and tennis parties — he now and then went 
for an hour — he saw no one who approached 
Madeline in any way — face, figure, grace, or gait 
— especiaUy Madeline as he had last seen her — - 
in her very fine feathers. Doubtless any of these 
girls would have made a more manageable wife, 
he thought to himself bitterly. Yes! she haci 
now taken the bit completely within her teeth, 
and he was powerless to control her. She went 
and came and stayed away when she pleased, 
and for precisely as long as it suited her. Her 
desertion — it was that — was all in pursuit of his 
interests — his and the child’s. What a fool she 
must think him ! She had evidently resolved to 
play the roZc of daughter first, wife next, and 
mother very much the last of all ! Her neglect 
of him he could tolerate, but her neglect of her 
child made bim excessively angry. She had 
wholly consigned it to Mrs. Holt, and lightly 
shaken off all a mother’s duties. She a mother! 
She did not look the part as she chattered fash- 
ionable gossip to those idiotic young men on 
Euston platform, and never cast a thought to 
the infant she was turning her back on in a cer- 
tain country farmhouse. She had been away 
nearly four months, and she had written — oh, 
yes, pretty frequently, but the tone of her letters 
was a little forced, their gayety was not natural 
— perhaps the tone of his own epistles was some- 
what curt. The relations between Mr. and Mrs. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


227 


Wynne were becoming strained — a crisis was 
impending. 

Among the departures from Kingstown on a 
certain date were Mr. and Miss West and suite, 
who duly arrived at Belgrave Square, and found 
London filling fast. Their arrival, however, 
was somewhat unexpected — the housekeeper had 
barely time to dispatch her sister’s family back 
to Manchester, and the poor woman was com- 
pelled to put off an evening party for which she 
had issued invitations among her own set. 

Mr. West had a great deal of business to trans- 
act, and spent most of his days in the City — and 
this was Madeline’s opportunity. 

She lost no time in paying a visit to the Inner 
Temple, arriving on foot, plainly dressed, and 
wearing a thick veil. She was a good deal be- 
wildered by the old courts and passages, but at 
last discovered Mr. Wynne’s chambers. Here 
she was received by an elderly, bare-armed, 
irascibledooking woman — with a palpable beard 
— who, after looking her over leisurely from 
heard to foot, told her to ‘‘Go up to the second 
flight front. She could tell nothing of Mr. 
Wynne; he was in and out all day, like a dog 
in a fair.” 

Further up the narrow stairs she came face to 
face with two gentlemen, who paused — she felt 
it— and looked back at her as she knocked and 
rang at the door of “Mr. Laurence Wynne.” 
Truly, such an elegant-looking young lady was 
not to be met about the old Temple every day ; 


228 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


and never had such an apparition been seen on 
Mr. Wynne’s landing. The outer room was oc 
cupied by two clerks, who stared at the visitor 
in unqualified amazement. Here was something 
spicy in the shape of a client ! Very, very differ- 
ent to the usual run. A breach of promise,” 
was their immediate and mutual idea. Some- 
thing more to the purpose than cranky old fogies 
fighting about rights of way or an involved legacy 
case. This was a pretty girl, and a swell. 

So much they noted with their sharp, semi- 
judicial eyes as she stood timidly in the doorway 
and raised her veil. 

One of them instantly bounded off his seat, 
and asked what he could do for her? 

“Could she see Mr. Wynne?” she faltered, as 
her eyes roved round the outer office, with its 
great double desk piled with documents, its rows 
of law books ranged round the room on stagger- 
ing, rickety shelves, its threadbare carpet, its 
rusty fender, its grimy windows, and last, not 
least, two bottles of stout, and a pewter mug. 

Still, these two youths might be Laurence’s 
clerks. Could it be possible? Could it be pos- 
sible that these immense piles of papers con- 
cerned Laurence? If so, he was getting on — 
really getting on at last. But what a horrible 
musty place! The very air smelled of dust and 
leather and law books. 

“Mr. Wynne, miss, did you say? Very sorry, 
but Mr. Wynne is in court,” said the clerk, 
briskly. 

“When will he be back?” she inquired, ad- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


229 


vancing and standing in the front of another 
door, evidently Mr. Wynne’s own sanctum. 

“Afraid I cannot say, miss; he is to speak in 
the case of Fuller v, Potts— breach of contract. 
Any business, any message — ” 

But the words died upon his lips— this uncom- 
monly cool 3"oung party had actually walked into 
Mr. Wynile’s own sitting-room. 

“It’s all right,” she remarked carelessl.y, divin-. 
ing his horror. “Mr. Wynne knows me.” 

And she went and sat down in his armchair, 
in front of a table piled with documents, all more 
or less neatly tied up and docketed. 

There were numbers of letters • under little 
weights. There was a law book, a couple of 
open notes, and all the apparatus of a busy legal 
man. She shrugged her shoulders and looked 
round the room ; it was dingy and shabby (fur- 
niture taken at a valuation from the last tenant) ; 
the carpet between the door and the fireplace 
was worn threadbare, as if it were a pathway — 
which it was. 

Another pathway ran from the window to the 
wall, which the inmate had probably paced as 
he made up his speeches. There was her espe- 
cial abomination, horse-hair furniture, a queer 
spindle-legged sideboard, some casual old prints 
on the wall; certainly there was nothing in the 
room to divert Laurence’s attention. Outside 
there was no prospect beyond a similar set of 
chambers, a very ugly block of buildings, and 
one forlorn tree waving its branches restlessly to 
and fro. 


230 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


She got up and glanced into an adjoining 
apartment. The clerks were not now watching 
her — Mr. Wynne did not tolerate idleness. This 
was his bedroom, a still barer scene. No carpet 
whatever, no curtains, a small iron bedstead, a 
big bath, a battalion of boots. Laurence, she 
remembered, was always extremely particular 
about his boots, and hated to wear them when 
patched ; these were whole, well cut, and in good 
case. There was a sixpenny glass on the wall, a 
painted chest of drawers and washstand, also one 
chair. Spartan simplicity, indeed! What a 
horrible contrast to her own luxurious home! 
She closed the door with a little shudder, and as 
she did so a quantity of large, important-looking 
cards and envelopes, stuck about the dusty chim- 
ney piece mirror and the pipe-rack, caught her 
eye, and she immediately proceeded to examine 
them with dainty fingers. 

‘‘Blest if she ain’t overhauling his invitations !” 
exclaimed one of the clerks, who, by tilting his 
chair back until it was at a most hazardous 
angle, caught a glimpse of what he and his co- 
adjutor began to think was “Mr. Wynne’s young 
woman.” 

“Her cheek beats all! Shall I go and inter- 
fere?” asked the first speaker, in an awestruck 
whisper. 

“No; you just leave her alone,” said number 
two, who had the bump of caution well developed. 
“It ain’t our business; but I did think he was 
about the last man in the world to have a lady 
coming and routing among his things. There 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


231 


ain’t nothing that she’ll find as will make her 
any wiser,” he concluded contemptuously. 

But here he was mistaken! She discovered a 
great deal that surprised her much — very much. 
Here were cards from old judges and stupid law 
fogies, requesting the pleasure of Mr. Wynne’s 
company at dinner. That was. easily under- 
stood. But there were several invitations to 
entertainments to which she and her father had 
been bidden ! and also, what was the strangest 
thing of all, blazoned cards of invitation to houses 
to which her father had not been able to obtain 
an eMiree^ smile he never so assiduously on the 
smart or noble hosts. She stood for several min- 
utes with one of these precious cards in her 
hand, and turned it over reflectively as she re- 
called the desperate and unavailing efforts of her 
parent to obtain a similar honor — the toadying, 
the flattery, the back-stair crawling that it made 
her crimson to recall ! And, such is poor human 
nature — poor, frail human n-ature! — this bit of 
pasteboard did more to raise her husband in her 
estimation than all the briefs she saw piled upon 
his desk. She now began to contemplate him 
from a new point of view. Hitherto she had 
been very fond of Laurence — in a way— her own 
way. He had been good to her when she had 
no friends, he had borne their poverty with won- 
derful patience. Yes, certainly he had. But 
she had thought — rather resentfully at times — 
that a man without some preparation for such a 
rainy day as they had experienced ought not to 
have married ; he should have left her as he found 


232 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


her. She did not hold these views at the time. 
She liked Laurence better than any one, all the 
same; but the horrible intimacy of dire want 
had bred — well, yes, a little contempt; his ill- 
ness, his helplessness had made her put herself 
somewhat above him in her own secret thoughts. 
She (for a time) had been bread-winner and 
house-band, and well and bravely she had strug- 
gled at that desperate crisis; but, alas! that it 
must be recorded, riches had spoiled her. She 
had inherited a luxurious, pleasure-loving nature, 
which cultivation had fostered, until, from a 
small and scarcely noticeable plant, it had grown 
into an overwhelming jungle! The longer she 
lived in her father’s home the less disposed was 
she to return to her own modest rooftree; and 
especially, looking round with a wry face, to 
such a place as this! She was now necessary 
to her father. He was something (he said) of 
an invalid; while Laurence was young and 
strong. Every day she was hoping to see her 
way to making the great disclosure, and every 
day the chance of making that disclosure seemed 
to become more and more remote. Laurence 
was evidently well thought of in influential 
circles, and, ‘‘of course, Laurence is of good 
family. Any one can see that at a glance,” she 
mentally remarked; “and, no doubt, his own 
people had now taken him by the hand.” 

The discovery that he moved in a set above 
her own had raised him in her opinion. Latter- 
ly she had been looking down on Laurence, as 
already stated — perhaps only an inch or so, but 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


233 


still, she placed herself above him. He had 
drawn a great and unexpected prize in the matri- 
monial lottery, but he scarcely seemed to realize 
the value of his treasure! She had bracketed 
Laurence mentally with obscurity, shabbiness, 
and poverty, and had a vague idea that only 
through her means could he ever emerge into 
the sunshine of prosperity. She had a kind of 
protecting affection for him, dating from the 
days when she had starved for his sake, and 
made his bed ai^i his beef tea, and washed his 
shirts. She looked down upon him just a little. 
It is possible to be fond of a man and to enter- 
tain this feeling. And now Laurence’s busy 
clerks, and these coroneted envelopes had given 
her ideas a shock. She went over and stood in 
the window and drummed idly upon the small 
old-fashioned panes, where not a few names and 
initials were cut. As she stood thus — certainly 
a very pretty figure to be seen in any one’s win- 
dow, much less that of an avowed anchorite like 
Laurence Wynne — a young gentleman sauntered 
to the opposite casement, with his hands in his 
pockets and his mouth widely yawning, as if he 
were on the point of swallowing up the whole 
premises. He paused in mute astonishment, and 
gazed incredulously across the narrow lane that 
divided the two buildings. Then Madeline dis- 
tinctly heard him shout in a stentorian voice — 

“Isay, Wallace, come here, quick — quick, and 
look at the girl in Wynne’s window ! My wig, 
ain’t that a joke?” 

On hearing this summons she instantly backed 


234 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


out of sight, and had the amusement of seeing 
three heads peering across, vainly endeavoring to 
catch a glimpse of the promised apparition. How- 
ever, they saw her depart — although she was 
not aware of the fact — and they were highly 
pleased with her figure, her walk, and her feet, 
and took care to tell Mr. Wynne of their gi^atify- 
ing and fiattering opinion, and to poke him in the 
ribs with a walking-stick — not as agreeable or 
facetious an action as it sounds — and to assure 
him that ‘4ie was a sly old bird, and that still 
waters run deep, and that they had no idea he 
had such good taste;” all of which witticisms 
Mr. Wynne took in anything but good part, es- 
pecially as he could not tell them that the lady 
upon whom they passed such enthusiastic en- 
comiums was his wife. Indeed, if he had done 
so they would only have roared with laughter, 
and fiatly refused to believe him- 

Madeline waited three-quarters of an hour, 
and then made up her mind to return home. As 
she walked through the outer office, once more 
thickly veiled, the alert clerk sprang forward to 
open the door. As he held it back, with an inky 
hand he said, with a benevolent grin — 

‘‘When Mr. Wynne comes back, who shall I 
say called, miss?” 

Madeline hesitated for a moment, and then, 
turning to the youth in her most stately manner, 
said — “Say Miss West,” and having thus left 
her name, with all due dignity she passed 
through the door with a slight inclination of 
her head and walked downstairs. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


235 


She met a good many cheery-looking young 
barristers, in wigs and flyaway gowns, as she 
passed through the precincts of the inns, and 
wondered if she would come across Laurence, 
and if she would recognize him in that funny 
dress. For, of course, he wore a wig and gown 
too; but he had always kept them in his cham- 
bers, and she had never seen them. But she did 
not meet Laurence — so she took a hansom, did 
a little shopping in Bond Street, and then got 
home just in nice time for afternoon tea. 

As she sat sipping it in her luxurious tea- 
jacket, and with her feet on the fender-stool, 
Mr. Wynne returned home, tired, hoarse, and 
cold. His Are was out. And, moreover, 
there was no sign of his modest evening 
meal. 

“Confound that old hag downstairs!” he 
muttered. 

‘‘'Please, sir,” said one of the clerks, who had 
been busy locking up, and who now follovv-ed him 
into his sanctum, “there was a party to see you 
while you were out — a party as waited for a 
good bit of an hour.” 

“Well, well, couldn’t you have dealt with 
him?” impatiently. “What did he want?” 

“It was a lady,” impressively. 

“A lady!” he echoed. “Oh, yes, I know, old 
Mrs. Redhead — -about that appeal — ” 

“No, it was not; it was a young lady.” 

“Oh, a young lady?” he repeated. 

“Yes, and she bid me be sure to tell you,” 
embroidering a little to give color to his story, 


236 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘as she was very sorry not to see you, and to 
say that Miss West had called.’^ 

“Miss West? Are you sure she said West?” 

“Yes, sir. I’ll take an oath to it, if you like.” 

“All right, then. Yes, yes, it’s all right. 
You can go,” dismissing him with a wave of 
his arm, and, suddenly pitching his wig in one 
direction and his gown in another, he sat down 
to digest the news. 

So Madeline had come to beard him in his Ij 
den. What did it all mean? and did she intends"^ 
to return? 

For fully an hour he sat in the dusk — nay, the 
darkness — pondering this question, forgetful of 
fire, light, and food. He would have liked to 
have cross-examined his clerk as to where she 
sat, and what she said; but -no, he could not ( 
stoop to that; and then his mind reverted again 
to that crucial and as yet unanswered question 
— “Did she intend to come back?” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


237 


CHAPTER XXIII 

A BOLD STEP 

Mr. West announced that he was obliged to 
run down to Brighton on business and would not 
return until late that night, and he commanded 
his daughter to write and ask Lady Rachel to 
come and lunch, and spend the day. At lunch 
time Lady Rachel duly drove up, and rustled in, 
full of gossip, full of vitality, and dressed out in 
the last suggestion of the winter’s fashion. She 
had a great deal to tell about a grand dinner at 
a great house the previous evening, and retailed 
volubly and at length — the menii^ the names of 
the guests — twenty-six — and the dresses of the 
ladies. 

“I wore a new frock, rather a daring style, 
geranium-red, silk skirt and sleeves, and a white 
satin body, veiled in black net, and embroidered 
in steel sequins. But it really was sweet — one 
of Doucet’s. I dare not think of the price. 
However, it suited me — so my cavalier assured 
me.” 

“You asked him?” 


238 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘I don’t think I did. He was a barrister. 
Barristers are looking up ! Yes, another chicken 
cutlet, please,” holding out her plate — the 
Jeameses were banished. “And such a good- 
looking young man — a. Mr. Wynne. My dear, 
you are giving me oyster sauce!” she screamed. 
“What are you thinking about? And, oh — 
where was I — what was I saying? Yes, about 
Wynne. He was so amusing, and said such 
witty things. I wish I could remember half — 
nay, any one of them — and pass them off as my 
own. It was more the way he said them, 
though. And Madeline, my love,” laying down 
her knife and fork, as if suddenly overwhelmed 
by the recollection, “he had the most irresistible 
dark eyes I ever looked into!” 

“Ever looked into?” repeated Madeline. “You 
— you seem quite impressed,” breaking up her 
bread rather viciously. 

She — no, well she did not like it! How dared 
any woman talk of her husband’s irresistible dark 
eyes? And .Laurence, had he been flirting? 
Could he flirt? Lady Rachel was an irreclaim- 
able coquette. 

“He is coming to dine with us next Sunday 
week. I wish you could come too, and see my 
new lion. They say he is awfully clever. Writes 
such smart articles, and scarifies us poor women. 
The emancipated female is his particular horror.” 

‘ ‘ Indeed ! How very pleasant !” 

“But men like him, which is always a good 
sign. They say he is going into Parliament 
some day.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


239 


‘‘If you are going to make a lion of every one 
who is said to be going into the House of Com- 
mons, you will be able to stock ev^ery menagerie 
in Europe,’’ retorted Madeline, dusting crumbs 
off her lap. 

“Or that I shall discover a good many asses 
under lions’ skins, eh? I mentioned you, ma 
belle^ and asked if he had ever heard of you, and 
he said yes. See what it is to be a social celeb- 
rity ! And I told him that you were the pretti- 
est girl and greatest heiress in London — and that 
he really ought to know you.” 

“And — and what did he say?” turning a salt 
cellar round and round. 

“Oh, I’m not quite sure what he said beyond 
that he was a busy man, and— oh, yes, that he 
detested the genus heiress.” 

And then the vivacious matron led the con- 
versation away to another topic, and Madeline 
led the way to her boudoir. Presently Lady 
Rachel announced that she had an engagement 
at four o’clock, and that she could not remain 
for tea — not even if Madeline went on her knees 
to her, a feat that Maddie had no desire to per- 
form — and finally she rushed off in a sort of mild 
whirlwind of good-bys, kisses, and last mes- 
sages — screamed from the hall and stairs. 

Then Madeline sat alone over the fire, and re- 
fiected on what she had heard with keen discom- 
fort, while she stupidly watched the red coals. 
Laurence had not answered her last two letters 
— he had not taken any notice of her call. Of 
course, he could not come to the house; but at 


240 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


least he might have written. He had no right 
to treat her as if she was a naughty child. He 
was entirely relieved of the burden of her sup- 
port; he could start well and unweighted in the 
race. She would pay for Harry too. Her father 
was impossible at present; he was dreadfully 
worried about money matters — he was ill. She 
was doing her best for Laurence and Harry. 
Surely, he knew that, and that she would rather 
be with them than here. But as she glanced at 
her magnificent surroundings, and at her silver 
tea equipage, just brought in by two powdered 
servants, with a request to know ‘‘if there were 
any orders for the carriage?” her heart misgave 
her. 

Would not Laurence think that she preferred 
all this — that this wealth was her attraction, lux- 
ury her idol — an idol that had cast out him and 
poor little Harry? 

She made a sudden decision. She would go 
and see Laurence. Yes, that very evening par- 
take of his frugal dinner — a chop, no doubt — and 
coax him into a better frame of mind, and a bet- 
ter humor with herself. She would wear her 
usual evening toilet, and give him an agreeable 
surprise. The idea pleased her. She swallowed 
down her tea, ran quickly up to her room, and 
rang for Josephine. 

“Josephine,” she said, as that very smart per- 
son appeared, “I am going out to dine with a 
friend — an old friend that I knew when I was at 
school. I want to look my very best, though it 
will not be a party, only one or two. Wliat 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


241 


shall I wear?” beginning to pull off her velvet 
morning-gown. 

“^Yell, miss, for two or three — a quiet dinner, 
but smart no doubt — your primrose satin with 
the chiffon body, just lighted with a few bril- 
liants. I’ll do your hair in the new knot, and 
run the diamond arrow through it.” 

This simple toilet occupied a considerable 
time. What with dressing Madeline’s hair, 
lacing her gown, arranging her ornaments, it 
was nearly seven before the great business was 
completed; but it was finished at last to Jose- 
phine’s entire satisfaction. 

‘‘Well, mademoiselle, I never saw you look 
better — no, nor as well!” 

Madeline could not refrain from a smile as she 
glanced at her reflection in the mirror; but her 
present sweet complacency was but momentary. 
There was a bitter drop in the cup. Was it f.or 
this, asked Madeline — this costly dress, those 
diamonds, and such-like delights — that she sac- 
rificed her home? 

“No!” she retorted angrily, aloud, and much 
to Josephine’s astonishment. “No, it is not.’'' 

Yet even so she was but half convinced. She 
was presently enveloped in a long crimson velvet 
mantle reaching to the ground, and trimmed 
with furs that were as much an outward and 
visible sign of Mr. West’s wealth as his house 
and carriage — Russian sables. Then she tied a 
scarf over her head, took up her fan and gloves, 
and, in spite of Josephine’s almost impassioned 
appeals to take a footman and go in the broiigh 


242 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


am, set out in a hansom alone. She herself 
gave the reply through the trap, in answer to 
the “Where to, miss?” 

And the attendant footman could not catch 
the address. 

There was a flavor of wild adventure about 
the whole expedition that made her heart beat 
unusually fast. The idea of taking Laurence by 
storm in his musty chambers, of cajoling him 
into a more amenable frame of mind, of dining 
with him tete-a-tete^ of trying the effect of her 
much-augmented charms upon her own husband 
— for she had now fully learned to know the 
value of youth, beauty, and dress — all carried 
her away out of her usual somewhat languorous 
frame of mind. 

She felt a little nervous as she stepped out of 
the hansom in the vicinity of the gloomy old 
Temple, and proceeded to Laurence’s chambers, 
as before, on foot. 

Fortunately the pavement was dry and her 
dainty shoes were none the worse. 

She came to the door, and rang a pretty loud 
peal this time, smiling to herself as she thought 
of Laurence sitting over his solitary meal, prob- 
ably by the light of an equally solitary candle. 

The door was opened by a curious jerk, and by 
some invisible agenc}^ and she beheld before her, 
half way up the stairs, the bearded beldame, 
carrying a heavy tray, who, unable to turn her 
head, shouted out querulously — “If that’s the 
washing, come in. I hope to gracious you’ve 
done his shirts a bit better nor last week. They 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


243 


icere a sight; and his collars!- deary, deary 
me!” 

And thus ejaculating, she rounded the stair- 
case, and was lost to view ; but still she shouted, 
though her voice did not come like a falling star. 

“You can go in by the other door, and lay 
them in his bedroom, and leave the basket.” 

Madeline was half suffocated with suppressed 
laughter as she tripped quickly up after this au- 
thoritative old person, and as she went she re- 
moved her head gear, and when she came to the 
top landing, she rapidly divested herself of her 
long cloak. 

The old woman was already in the outer office, 
which was lit, and had deposited her load upon 
a table when, hearing a rustle and a footfall, she 
turned and beheld Madeline— in other words, a 
tall, lovely young lady, wearing a yellow even- 
ing dress, with diamond buttons, diamonds in 
her hair, and carrying a huge painted fan in her 
exquisitely gloved hands. No pen could convey 
any idea of her amazement, no brush seize the 
expression of her countenance, as she staggered 
back against the nearest desk, with limp arms, 
protruding eyes, and open mouth, which pres- 
ently uttered, in a loud and startled key, the one 
word ‘“Laws!” 


244 


JIARKIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XXIV 

AN UNEXPECTED HONOR 

A DAPPER man-servaDt (hired) next came upon 
the scene, and his astonishment was no less pro- 
found, though more skillfully concealed. He 
looked politely at Madeline, and said in his most 
proper and parrot-like tone of voice, “Who shall 
I say, ma’am?’’ 

Say, returned the young lady, giving her 
fringe a little pat, her chiffon frill a little twitch, 
and smiling slightly all the time, “say Miss 
West.’^ 

Miss West! ^ bawled the waiter, flinging the 
door open with a violence that nearly tore it 
from its ancient hinges, and then stood back, 
eager to witness the effect of his announcement 
on the company. 

Madeline was scarcely less surprised than they 
were. She beheld a round table, decorated with 
flowers, wax candles, and colored shades — really, 
a most civilized-looking little table— the room 
well lighted up, its shabbiness concealed by the 
tender rose-colored light, looking quite venerable 
and respectable, and, seated at table, Laurence 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


245 


and two other men — one of whom she knew! 
Horror! This was a great deal more than she 
had bargained for. She had never dreamed of 
dropping in thus upon a cozy little bachelor 
party ! 

And who shall paint their amazement? They 
were talking away, just between the soup and 
fish, and Wynne had been regretting the absence 
through illness of Mr. Jessop, whose vacant place 
awaited him. There had been a little profes- 
sional discussion, an allusion to a big race, a 
society scandal, a commendation of some excel- 
lent dry sherry, and they were all most genial 
and comfortable, when the door was flung wide 
open, and “Miss West” was announced in a 
stentorian voice. 

And who the deuce was Miss West? thought 
the two guests. All looked up and beheld a lady 
— a young lady — in full evening dress, and liter- 
ally blazing with diamonds, standing rather 
doubtfully just within the doorway. Laurence 
Wynne felt as if he was turned to stone. 

Madeline he ejaculated under his breath. 
Madeline, looking like a fairy princess — but 
surely Madeline gone mad? 

What could he say — what could he do? He 
might cut the Gordian knot by explaining, 
“Gentlemen, this beautiful girl, who has 
dropped, as it were, from the skies, is Mrs. 
Wynne — my wife” — if she had not heralded her 
entrance by her maiden name. He might have 
done this, but now, as matters stood, his lips 
were sealed. He must take some step immedi- 


246 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


ately. His friends and the waiter were staring 
at him expectantly. The}^ evidently thought 
that there had been a mistake. 

“Miss West!” he said, suddenly pushing back 
his chair and rising. “This is, indeed, an unex- 
pected honor. What can I do for you? There 
is nothing wrong at— at home, I hope?” now 
approaching her, and shaking hands. 

“No, no,” trying to speak calmly, and casting 
wildly about for some plausible excuse. “I 
thought I sliould have found you alone.” Then, 
coloring violently, “I — I mean disengaged, and 
I wished to consult you on some — some family 
business.” 

“If you will honor me by taking a seat at 
table, and partaking of our— er— bachelor fare, 
Miss West, I shall be entirely at your service 
afterward,” he said, conducting her to a vacant 
place opposite his own. “May I introduce my 
friend Mr. Treherne”— (Mr. Treherne had seen 
her on the stairs, and hugged himself as he noted 
the fact) — “and Mr. Fitzherbert?” 

“I think Miss West and I have met before,” 
said Mr. Fitzherbert, smiling and bowing as he 
rose simultaneously with Mr. Treherne, and th-en 
subsided into his chair. This was nuts. The 
beautiful Miss West coming quite on the sly to 
Wynne’s chambers— and Wynne such a staid 
and proper Johnnie, too! — and finding, to her 
horror, company! It was altogether most pe- 
culiar. 

However, Mr. Fitzherbert had his wits about 
him, and was full of society small-talk and pres- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


247 


ence of mind, and soon he and the lady were 
conversing vivaciously of mutual friends, and 
the awkward edge of this extraordinary incident 
had been blunted. 

Soup was brought back for Miss West. The 
waiter waited as a waiter should wait. The din- 
ner was well chosen and excellent (supplied from 
a neighboring restaurant). 

Meanwhile, the good laundress watched the 
whole proceedings with her eye glued to a crack 
in the door, and suffered no look or gesture to 
escape her. She owed this to the whole of her 
acquaintance, for surely such a sight as she en- 
joyed was rarely seen. Three young bachelors, 
in evening dress, sitting by themselves so nice 
and proper, and then a grand young lady, in a 
beautiful dress and jewels, walking in unasked, 
and taking a place among them ! What could it 
mean? It was surely not the thing for a lady — 
and she looked that — to be coming alone, and on 
foot, to chambers in the Temple, and especially 
to see Mr. Wynne, of all the quiet, reasonable- 
like men, who never looked at a woman! Oh, it 
beat all, that it did ! And how grave he seemed, 
though he was talking away pleasant enough. 

Thus we leave her, with her eye to the door, 
thoroughly enjoying herself for once in her life. 

It was more than could be said for Laurence 
Wynne. Never had he felt so uncomfortable. 
What would Fitzherbert and Treherne think of 
Miss West? If the story got round the clubs, 
Madeline’s reputation was at the mercy of every 
old woman — a}^, and old man — in London. 


248 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


What on earth did she mean by descending on 
him at this hour, and dressed as if she was going 
to the opera? 

He stole a glance across the candle-shades. 
She was conversing quite at her ease with Mr. 
Treherne, who was looking all the admiration 
he no doubt felt — and no doubt Madeline was 
beautiful. 

What a complexion, what eyes, what clean-cut 
features, what a radiant, vivacious expression — 
and all set off by youth, a good milliner, and 
diamonds. 

“Who would dream,’’ he said, as he slowly 
withdrew his gaze, “that she was the same 
Madeline who, two years previously, had been 
Miss Selina’s slave, and had attracted his no- 
tice and commiseration in her darned and shabby 
black gown? or that she was the same Madeline 
who had pawned the very dress off her back 
not twelve months ago? She could not be the 
same.” He looked at her again. The idea of 
such a thing was grotesque nonsense. She, this 
brilliant being who had suddenly presented her- 
self at his humble entertainment, had surely 
never been his hard-working, poverty-stricken, 
struggling wife. If she had, he could not realize 
the fact. This magnificent-looking young lady 
was a stranger to him. This was a woman— or 
girl — of the world. 

There she sat, this charming, unchaperoned 
young person, dining with three bachelors in tlie 
Temple with as much sangfroid as if it were a 
most conventional and everyday occurrence. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


249 


The truth was that, the first shock recovered, 
the fair ^uest was actually enjoying herself ex- 
tremely. She was extraordinarily adaptable. 
For one thing, she liked the i^isqiie, unusual 
situation — her two amusing, clever, mystified 
supporters on either hand, who were doing their 
utmost to take it all as a matter of course, and 
to be unusually agreeable and entertaining. 
And she liked looking across the table at her 
husband’s handsome, gloomy face, and re- 
marked to herself that this was positively their 
first dinner-party, and that it should not be her 
fault if it did not go off well ! 

Laurence’s silence and gravity implied that it 
was all very wrong; but it was, nevertheless, 
delightful, She felt quite carried out of herself 
with excitement and high spirits, and more than 
once the idea flashed across her mind — 

‘‘Shall I tell^ — shall I tell? Oh, it would be 
worth an^^thing to see their faces when they 
hear that I am Mrs. Wynne!” 

But Mrs. Wynne was not very good at telling, 
as we know, and, without any exhausting effort 
of self-restraint, she was enabled to hold her 
peace. 


250 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XXV 

PLAIN SPEAKING 

All went merry as a marriage bell. The 
dinner was a success. There was no hitch; the 
laundress (with interludes devoted to the crack 
in the door) safely brought up course after 
course. Now they had ceased, and the company 
were discussing dessert, and many of the topics 
of last season — Henley, Ascot, Mrs. Pat Camp- 
bell, the rival charms of Hurlingham and Ranelagh 

‘‘Wynne here never goes to these frivolous 
places,’’ said Treherne. 

“I’m not a member, you see.” 

“ ‘Can’t afford it,’ thaPs his cry to all these 
delights. He can afford it well — a single man, 
no claims on his purse, and getting such fees.” 

“Fees, indeed! How long have I been getting 
a fee at all?” he asked good-humoredly. 

“There’s Milton, who has not half your screw 
— keeps his hunters.” 

“Ah, but he has a private income. I’m a 
poor mail.” 

“You old miser! You don’t even know the 
meaning of the word ‘poverty.’ How do you 
define it?” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


251 


‘‘In the words of the plebeian philosopher, 
‘It ain’t no crime— only an infernal ill con- 
venience.’ ” 

“Well, I shouldn’t think it had ever ili-con- 
venienced you much — eh, Miss West?” 

Miss West — born actress — made a gesture of 
airy negation, and, turning quicky to Mr. Fitz- 
herbert, asked him “if he remembered Mrs. 
Veryphast last season, and her extraordinary 
costumes. She quite gloried in her shame, and 
liked to know that every eye was fixed upon 
her. She had one awful gown — pale yellow, 
with enormous spots. She reminded me of a 
Noah’s-ark dog. It was her Sunday frock; but 
it was not as bad as her hat, which was like an 
animated lobster salad — claws and all.” 

Then Mr. Fitzherbert had his turn, and told 
several anecdotes that had alreadj^ seen some 
service,' but which made Miss West laugh with 
charming unrestraint. Presently it occurred to 
the two gentlemen guests that the lady had 
come for an audience, that it was nearly nine 
o’clock, and, making one or more lame excuses, 
which, however, were very readily accepted, 
they rose reluctantly, and, taking a deferential 
leave of Miss West, with a ‘‘By-by, old chap- 
pie,” to their host, effected their exit, leaving — 
had they but known it — Mr. and Mrs. Wynne 
tete-a-tete, alone. 

“Well, Laurence,” exclaimed Madeline, with 
her usual smiling and insouciant air, rising 
slowly, coming to the fire, and spreading her 
hands to the blaze. 


252 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


“Well, Madeline,” lie echoed, following her, 
laying his arm on the mantel- piece, and looking 
as severe as if he were going to cross-examine a 
witness. “What does this mean? Have you 
gone mad, or have you come to stay?” 

“Not I,” she replied coolly, now putting an 
extremely neat little shoe upon the fender. 
“Papa is away, and won’t be back until late, 
and I took it into my head that I would come 
over and dine with you, and give you an agree- 
able surprise ; but” — with a laugh — “seemingly 
it has been a surjirise only; the word ‘agreeable’ 
we may leave out.” 

“You may,” he said roughly. “I wonder 
you have not more sense! If you had sent me 
a wire that you were coming — if you had even 
had yourself ushered in under your lawful 
name; but to come masquerading here as Miss 
West is — is too much, and I tell you plainly, 
Madeline, that I won’t have it. What must 
those fellows have thought of you to-night? 
Fitzherbert will blazon it all over London. 
Have you no regard for your reputation — your 
good name?” 

“There, there, Laurence, my dear,” raising 
her hands with a gesture of graceful depreca- 
tion, “that is lecturing enough — that will do!” 

“But it won’t do,” he repeated angrily. “I 
really believe that you are beginning to think of 
me as a miserable, weak-minded idiot, who will 
stand anything. There’s not another man in 
England would have stood as much as I have 
done, and, by George! I’ve had enough of it,” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


253 


with a wave of his hand in his turn. ‘"This 
visit of yours is the last straw. If you have no 
regard for Miss West’s reputation, be good 
enough to think of mine^ I do not choose to 
have gayly dressed young women coming 
flaunting to my humble chambers at any hour 
of the day. I’ve been hitherto considered rather 
a steady, respectable sort of fellow; I wonder 
what people will think of me now? Your visit 
will be all over the Inns to-morrow, and half 
my circuit will be clamoring to know ‘who my 
friend was?’ ” 

^‘Nonsense, Laurence! What an old-fash- 
ioned frump you are! Girls do all sorts of 
things nowadays, and no one minds. It is the 
fashion to be emancipated. Why, the two De 
Minxskys go and dine with men, and do a thea- 
ter afterward! Chaperons are utterly exploded! 
And look at girls over in America” 

“We are not in America, but London, where 
people ask for explanations.” 

“Well, you can easily explain me away! You 
must be a very bad lawyer if you are not equal 
to such a trifling occasion as this ! Oh, m}^ dear 
Laurence,” beginning to laugh at the mere recol- 
lection, “I wish you could have seen your own 
face when I walked in — a study in sepia, a noc- 
turne in black. Come, now, you can tell your 
anxious friends that I’m a client, and they will 
be so envious; or that I’m your step-sister, a 
sister-in-law, or any little fib you fancy. And 
as you so seldom have the pleasure of my 
society, make much of me” — drawing forward 


254 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


a chair, and seating herself — ‘‘and tell that old 
woman of yours to bring me a cup of coffee.” 
There was nothing like taking high ground. 

“Yes, presently; but before that there is 
something that I wish to say to you,” also tak- 
ing a seat. “We won’t have any more of this 
shilly-shallying, Madeline. You will have to 
make your choice ncnv — to be either Miss West 
or Mrs. Wynne, permanently and publicly.” 

A pause, during which a cinder fell out of the 
grate, and the clock ticked sixty seconds. Then 
Madeline, who would not have believed, she told 
herself, that Laurence could be so shockingly 
bearish, plucked up spirit and said: 

“I will be both for the present! And soon I 
will be Mrs. Wynne only. Papa is not well now 
— worried, and very cross. I began to try and 
tell him only two nights ago, and his very look 
paralyzed me. I must have a little more time. 
As it is, I think, between my visits to the Holt 
farm and here, I play my two parts extremely 
well!” 

“Then you must permit me to differ with 
you,” said her husband, in a frosty voice. 
“The part of wife, as played for many months, 
has certainly been a farce; but, to put the case 
in a mild form, it has not been a success. As to 
your role of mother, the less said the better.” 

“Laurence” — aghast, and drawing in her 
breath — “how can you speak to me in that 
way? It is not like you !” 

“How do you know what I am like now? 
People change. And since you are so much 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


255 


changed, you need not be astonished if I am 
changed, too!’^ 

‘‘And oh, Laurence, I am so — so angry with 
you about one thing!'’ she exclaimed irrele- 
vantly. “I went to the Holts’ on Tuesday and 
saw Harry; he looks a perfect little angel!” 

“Is that why you are so angry?” 

“Nonsense! Why did you tell Mrs. Holt to re- 
fuse my money? Why may I not pay for him?” 

“Because it is not your affair, but mine.” 

“Not my affair?” she repeated incredulously. 

“No; it is my business to maintain my son. 
And I shall certainly not suffer him to be paid 
for by Mr. West’s money!” 

“It is mine ; he gives it to me for my own use. ” 

“No doubt — to expend in dress and such 
things. Not for the support of his unknown 
grandchild. You would be taking his money 
under false pretenses. Your father pays for his 
daughter’s expenses; I pay for my son’s ex- 
penses.” 

“And I may not?” 

“No.” He shook his head curtly. 

“But I am his mother!” she said excitedly. 

“I thought you had forgotten that! Now, 
look here, Maddie, I am not going to be put off 
with words any longer! You cannot run with 
the hare and hunt with the hounds. You must 
come home at once. Tell your father the truth, 
or let me tell him the truth, and make your 
choice once for all. This double life, where all 
of it is spent in one sphere, and onl}^ the shadow 
falls on the other, won’t do. Think of your 


256 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


child’’ — with rising heat — ‘‘growing up a 
stranger to you! Poor chap! he believes that 
Mrs. Holt is his mother. I — I try and see him; 
but what good am I? I’m only a man, and not 
much of a hand with small children. Madeline, 
this cursed money has poisoned your mind! 
Admiration has turned your head. You are no 
more what you once were — ” 

“Don’t say it, Laurence!” she cried, springing 
up and laying her hand on his mouth. “I have 
been waiting, waiting, waiting, trying to bring 
my courage to the sticking-point, and hoping to 
bring you and my father quietly together. I 
see I have been wrong. I — I will tell him to- 
morrow — yes, there is my hand on it ; and if he 
turns me out, as is most probable, I shall be 
sitting here making your tea to-morrow evening ! 
You believe me, Laurence?” standing over him 
as he leaned his head in his hand, and looked 
into the fire. 

“There have been so many to-morrows, Mad- 
die. I’m like the man in the fable about the boy 
and the wolves; but” — suddenly pulling himself 
together, and confronting her — “I will believe 
that this time it reall}^ is wolf.” Standing up 
and looking at her, he added, “I will believe 
you, and trust you. And now” — ringing the 
bell as he spoke — “you shall have your coffee, 
and I am going to take you home in a hansom.” 

“Home! It’s too early yet — ten past nine. 
Take me to the theater for an hour. Take me 
to the Haymarket; it will be such fun!” 

“Fun!” he echoed, impatiently. “Supposing 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


257 


any one was to see you — any of your friends — 
what would they think? They do not know that 
I am ’your husband; they would only take me 
for some admirer, who, presuming on your 
father’s absence, had escorted you to the theater, 
under the rose — that would be capital fun!” 

‘‘What harm would it be? I like puzzling 
people. I like to give them something to talk 
about,” she answered recklessly. 

“And I do not. And I suppose I know a lit- 
tle more of the world than you do. You seem 
to think it would be a joke to fling down your 
good name, and allow it to be destroyed from 
pure wantonness, but I shall not permit it.” 

“Laurence, how you do talk! One would 
think you were addressing a jury, or were some 
old fogey laying down the law!” 

“I am laying down the law.” 

“You must please remember that I am accus- 
tomed to be spoiled. Now, iny wishes are law 
in Belgrave Square, and you are going to carry 
them out; and take me to see ‘The Notorious 
Mrs. Ebbsmith?’ ” 

“Take care that you do not become the noto- 
rious Miss West.” 

“Now, Laurence, you know you cannot really 
say no to me. Oh !” — with a slight start — “here 
comes the coffee at last!” as the laundress, who 
insisted upon doing this little errand in person, 
in order to have what she called “a rare good 
look,” fumbled at the door, pushed it open with 
her knee, and marched in, carrying a small tray, 
which she laid very slowly on the table, her eyes 


258 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


all the while being fixed on the beautiful vision 
standing by the fire. 

She had her face turned away^ but Mr. 
Wynne, who was leaning his head on his hand, 
and his elbow on the mantel-piece, confronted her 
steadily and said, in a less cordial tone than us- 
ual, ‘‘There, Mrs. Potts, that will do! You need 
not wait. Call a hansom as soon as you go 
downstairs,” and Mrs. Potts very reluctantly 
shuffled out. She had seen a good deal, but was 
as much at sea as ever. 

The young woman had her hand on Mr. 
Wynne’s arm when she went in, and was say 
ing, “You know you cannot say ‘no’ to me^ and 
are going to take me to the theater.” Was ever 
such a brazen piece! He had his head turned 
away, and looked as if he’d rather have her 
room than her company. The girls run after 
the men now, and no mistake! It was scanda- 
lous ! The haystack after the cow ! Supposing 
this young person’s folk were to know of her 
carryings on — and with Mr. Wynne, of all men! 
It beat everything that Mrs. Potts had come 
across right away into a cocked hat ! 

A few minutes later they were coming down 
the stairs, miss all wrapped up in a long velvet 
cloak, which velvet cloak Mrs. Potts having 
found In the . outer office, had done herself the 
pleasure of examining, and — low be it spoken — 
trying on. None of your “paletot things,” as 
she expressed it, but a long mantle of crimson 
velvet, reaching down to the floor, trimmed with 
thick, soft fur, and lined with satin, smelling 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


259 * 


powerfully of some sweet perfume — violets. 
Mrs. Potts, being squat and of short stature, 
was lost in it. But the time when she was en- 
veloped in a six-hundred-pound wrap was indis- 
putably one of her happiest moments. There was 
a pocket inside, and in that pocket a dainty lace- 
edged handkerchief , which, I am sorry to say, Mrs. 
Potts felt, called upon to confiscate as a souvenir. 

It did not appear to be one of Mr. Wynne’s 
happiest moments, as he pulled on his greatcoat, 
and followed the daintily tripping, high-heeled 
steps of his visitor downstairs. 

Mrs. Potfcs, who had naturally hung about the 
door below, did herself the honor of seeing the 
couple into the hansom, and heard, the order — 
Hay market Theater.” 

‘^So she had got her way,” said the charwo- 
man, as she stood boldly in the doorway and 
looked after them. Then she went upstairs to 
Mr. Wynne’s room and finished the sherry, 
poured herself out a 'cup of coffee, which she 
sipped at her leisure, as she sat comfortably over 
the fire in Mr. Wynne’s own chair. One-half 
of the world certainly does not know how the 
other half lives ! 

“Really, it is very ridiculous of you to be so 
strait-laced and grumpy, Laurence,” said his 
wife. “Think of all I am going to relinquish 
for your sake touching her furs. “This 
mantle, which makes other women green with 
envy, cost nearly six hundred pounds!” 

“Six hundred fiddlesticks!” he echoed in- 
credulously. 


2G0 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


“You can see the bill if you like.’’ 

“You ought to be ashamed to wear it, Maddie !” 

“Not at all, my dear. It is for the good of 
trade. If some people did not buy and wear fine 
feathers what would become of trade?” 

“Six hundred pounds! More than he could 
earn in twelve months! And she paid that for 
an opera-cloak!” 

“You really must make yourself agreeable, 
Laurence. This may be the last time I shall 
play the fairy princess, before I go back to my 
rags. No, no, I don’t mean that.” 

“Something tells me, all the same, that this 
will not be your last appearance in your present 
character. Not that I question for a moment 
your good intentions, Maddie, or disbelieve your 
word. But I have a presentiment — a sort of de- 
pressing sensation that I cannot account for — 
that, far from your returning home to-morrow, 
our lives will somehow have drifted further apart 
than ever.” 

“Fancy a clever man like you, dear, believing 
in such foolish things as presentiments! They 
are merely remnants of the dark ages. I liope 
we shall be able to get a box,” she added, as 
they drew up at the theater, “no matter how 
tiny; a stall would be too conspicuous.” 

The Wynnes were late. The orchestra was 
playing during an interval, and they had the 
great good luck to secure a box overlooking the 
stage. 

Madeline removed her mantle, and, taking a 
seat with her back to the house, having glanced 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


2G1 


round with affected nervousness, said to her 
companion, in a smothered whisper: 

"‘Sister Ann, Sister Ann! do you see anybody 
looking? Do you think any one recognized me 
by my back hair?” 

Laurence had noted several familiar faces; 
and one man in an opposite box had recognized 
him. But this was of no importance, as he 
could not possibly identify Madeline. 

Madeline whispered and laughed and chattered 
to him behind her fan. He told himself that he 
was a sour, sulky brute to be so gruff and irre- 
sponsive to the beautiful girl opposite to him, 
although he could hardly realize that she was his 
wife as he glanced at her at this special moment, 
as she sat with her head resting on her hand, 
diamonds glittering on her gown and in her hair, 
a gay smile on her lips, no wedding-ring on her 
finger. Could this really be Madeline West, 
Mrs. Harper’s pupil-teacher, and his wife? 

His acquaintance in the opposite box was as- 
tonished to see Wynne over against him. Sure- 
ly it was not to another man that he was thus 
bendiug forward and stooping his head so po- 
litely, as if to lose nothing of what was being 
told him ! Ah, no — he thought not ! as presently 
a very pretty hand, wrist, and arm emerged 
from the shadow of the curtain, and lay upon 
the velvet cushion. 

He snatched up his excellent opera-glass, and 
noted a sparkling bracelet and diamond rings. 
But no — there was not a wedding-ring among 
them ! 


263 


MAERIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XXVI 

MR. WYNNE MAKES A STATEMENT 

When the play was over the Wynnes prud- 
ently waited, and were almost the last to leave. 
But, even so, when they passed through the lob- 
bies, a good many people were still to be seen. 
They were a rather remarkable couple, and al- 
though Madeline had drawn her lace scarf well 
over her head, it was of no avail. On the stairs 
she came face to face with Lord Tony. 

“Hullo!” he exclaimed, as he accosted her. 
“I did not know you were coming here to-night. 
Rachel told me she lunched with you to-day, and 
you were alone in your glory. Whom did you 
come with?” And he looked as if he was ex- 
pecting to see some of the party. 

“I came in very good company,” she replied. 
“But, pi’ay, who made you my father confes- 
sor?” 

“I only wish I was! Are you going on to 
supper at the Candytufts? If so, we shall meet 
again.” 

“No, I’m going home this moment.” 

“How virtuous! Well, you’ll be in the Row 
to-morrow — riding— at the usual hour?” 

“I’m not sure.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


2G3 


“I’ll look out for you about ten. Good- 
night.” And he hurried off. 

“Who is that?” inquired Laurence. 

“Oh, a great friend of papa’s — Lord Anthony 
Foster.” 

“Indeed! I shouldn’t have thought they had 
many tastes in common.” 

“Well, at any rate they have one,” she an- 
swered, with a flippant laugh. 

“Yes, dense as I am, I think I can guess it!” 

Mr. Wynne was also recognized by several of 
his own friends. Why is it that there is always 
some one to see you when you wish to escape 
notice, and, when you particularly desire to court 
observation, there is never any one forthcoming? 

No; and yet if you lose a front tooth, aud, 
with a gaping chasm in your neat front row, are 
en route to the dentist, you are bound to encoun- 
ter half your acquaintances. 

Mr. Fitzherbert and Mr. Treherne were stand- 
ing on the steps as their friend passed, and 
wished him a cheerful good-night: 

He did not accompany Madeline; she would 
not permit it. She must get home at once, be- 
fore her father returned, she whispered; “and 
supposing she were seen driving up, escorted by 
a gentleman, a stranger!” 

“All right, all right, Maddie, ” wringing her 
hand. “But, mind you, it is the last time. Re- 
member, to-morrow! Send me a wire, and I 
shall come and fetch you.” 

Then, with a gesture of farewell, he stepped 
back, and she was quickly whirled away. 


2G4 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Mr. Fitzherbert and Mr. Treherne were still 
endeavoring to light up, and had not yet started 
to walk; the night was fine and frosty, and they 
had not far to go. 

‘‘I’m coming your way. Hold on a minute 
till I get out my cigar-case, ” said their late host. 
And soon the trio were facing homeward, dis- 
cussing the piece, the actresses, the audience; but 
not a word dropped from either gentleman’s lips 
with regard to Wynne’s mysterious lady friend, 
though, like the celebrated parrot, they thought 
the more. Wynne was a reserved sort of chap. 
For nearly a year he had dropped out of their 
ken. Jessop alone was his confidential friend. 
None ever dreamed of poking their noses into 
his affairs, as a caustic repl}" or a painful snub 
was sure to be the reward of the experiment. 
He was of good family — that they knew; and 
latterly some of his influential relations had been 
looking him up. (Nothing succeeds like success, 
and the brilliant author of society ^skits was now 
eagerly claimed by his connections.) 

Nevertheless, they were exceedingly anxious 
to know more respecting Miss West, the gay, 
vivacious beauty, whose fame had spread far 
and wide, whose riches and whose disheartening 
indifference to the advances of the most eligible 
partis were alike proverbial. 

What on earth had she to do with a hard- 
working barrister like Wynne, who rarely mixed 
in society? They asked each other this question 
after they had left Wynne and his client tete-a- 
tete. “Business?” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


2(55 


It was confoundedly odd that she should pitch 
on such an hour, and on such an uncommonly 
handsome fellow as Wynne for her legal adviser; 
and the funniest part of it all was, that Wynne 
was not particularly pleased to see her, and 
treated her as coolly as if she had been his 
grand-aunt by marriage ! Talking of matters far 
different from their inmost thoughts brought the 
trio to Mr. Treherne’s chambers. 

“Come up, you fellows, and have some deviled 
bones,” he said hospitably ; “the night is young!” 

Mr. Fitzherbert never turned a deaf ear to such 
an appeal, but Wynne on this occasion, rather 
to his friend’s surprise, said, “All right, ITl come 
up for a minute,” and sprang up the stairs two 
steps at a time. 

“Pm not going to stay,’* he said, taking off 
his hat and standing with his back to the fire, 
still in his topcoat; “but I’ve just wished to have 
a word with you two fellows. I want to ask 
you, as a special favor to me, to say nothing to 
any one of having met Miss West in my cham- 
bers.” 

The two guests muttered, “Oh, of course not; 
certainly not;” but without any great alacrity. 
This demand was decidedly a blow, for they 
were only human, and were looking forward to 
describing the scene with pleasurable anticipa- 
tion. 

“When I ask you to do me this favor,” he re- 
sumed, as coolly as if he were speaking in court, 
“I think it only fair to take you into m3" confi- 
dence, and to tell you our secret. Miss West and 


206 


MARRIED OR SINGLE ? 


I were married nearly two years ago. She is 
imj tvife.’^ 

And putting on his hat, he nodded good-night 
with the utmost sangfroid^ and ere they could 
get out one single syllable, much less question, 
he was already at the bottom of the last flight of 
stairs. 


CHAPTER XXVII 

A PROMISE POSTPONED 

“A TELEGRAM for you. Sir,” said one of the 
clerks to Laurence Wynne, the following morn- 
ing. Telegrams were a common arrival; but 
instinctively he felt that there was something 
unusual about this one, as he tore it open and 
glanced over it. 

“My father is dangerously ill. Impossible to 
fulfill promise. W riting. ’ ’ 

“I knew it,” he said, as he crumpled the paper 
in his hand, then smoothed it and read it over 
again. “No,” to the clerk, who had a bet on 
an imminent big race, and had gathered alarm, 
from Mr. Wynne’s expression, “no, Stevens; 
there is no answer.” 

“Mr. West had come in and gone to bed,” so 
Miss West was impressively informed by the 
butler. Yes, he had inquired for her, and he 
had told him that, to the best of his belief, she 
was spending the evening with Lady Rachel. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


2(57 


Madeline breathed again freely, and hurried 
up to her own room, almost afraid of encounter- 
ing her fussy and inquisitive parent on the stairs, 
and being rigidly questioned then and there. 

But Mr. West had not been feeling well, and 
complained of his chest and breathing, and had 
gone straight to bed, so said Josephine. Conse- 
quently there was no chance of his loitering 
about in passages, awaiting her, and catching 
cold. 

Madeline sat over her fire, for a long time, 
wondering how she could bring herself to tell 
him, and what would be the result of her great 
piece of news. It must be told — and told to- 
morrow; Laurence was evidently serious. She 
had not known till now that Laurence could be 
hard, stern, and immovable. Well — well^ — she 
wished the ordeal was over, and well over ; this 
time to-morrow it would be a thing of the past. 

“Perhaps, nay, most likely,” she said to her- 
self half aloud, “this is the very last time I shall 
sit at this fire; the last time I shall have a maid 
to lay out my things and brush my hair. Heigho ! 
I wish — no — no — I don’t wish I had not married 
Laurence, but there is no harm in wishing that 
he was richr'' 

Madeline’s terror of her inevitable interview 
kept her awake for hours; her heart beat so 
loudly that it would not suffer her to sleep, and 
it was really morning when she fell into a troubled 
doze, from which she was aroused by Josephine 
with an unusually long face, and no morning tea 
in her hand. 


268 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘Mademoiselle,” she said, “your father is very 
ill, so his man says. The doctor has been sent 
for. They think he has got inflammation of the 
lungs.” 

Madeline sprang out of bed, huddled on some 
clothes, and went at once to her parent’s room. 
He was very ill — in high fever, his breath com- 
ing in quick laboring gasps. It was, as Jose- 
phine had said, inflammation of the lungs, and 
the doctor added, “a very sharp attack.” It 
had come to a crisis with extraordinary rapidity. 
It was, he admitted, a grave case ; he would like 
another opinion, and two hospital nurses must 
be procured at once. How quickly every allevia- 
tion, every possible remedy for sickness, every 
luxury, flows into a rich man’s sick-room ! 

Was he dangerously ill? asked Madeline, with 
bated breath. 

“Well, there was always a danger in these 
sudden attacks, and Mr. West had lived a hard 
life and taken an immensity of wear and tear out 
of his nerves and vitality. His heart was weak; 
but still, he had pulled people through worse 
cases, and she must not think that because her 
father was seriously ill he was bound to — to — ” 
and he left her to fill in the blank herself, not 
wishing to hint at that ugly word — death. 

And thus was Madeline’s confession postponed 
sine die, and Madeline felt that she had been 
reprieved. Yes, the personal fascination of Lau- 
rence’s presence had already faded. She wrote 
a long affectionate letter, and explained the state 
of the case to Laurence, and sent him constant 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


269 


bulletins of her father’s progress, and except for 
one flying visit to the Holt Farm and once to 
church on Sundays, she never left the house for 
the whole month of November. However, she 
was cheered in her monotonous duties by the 
company of Mrs. Leach, who, on hearing of dear 
Mr. West’s illness, had written from Brighton 
and volunteered her services to her darling Made- 
line. Then she had arrived in person and urged 
her request with persistence. She would look 
after the house, see callers, write notes, and 
leave Madeline unlimited time to spend with the 
dear invalid. 

At first Mr. West, fretful and weary, would 
not hear of her arrangement. It was one thing 
to look into the fair widow’s eyes and hold her 
hand and listen to her flatteries, when in good 
health, on an idle autumn day ; it was another 
to have her coming and quartering herself thus 
on a sick house. However, after many mes- 
sages and intrigues and excuses, Madeline gave 
way. She was weak, the besieger was strong, 
and she begged her father to accept the proffered 
favor. 

“I cannot get rid of her, dear. She is deter- 
mined to come, and, after all, you won’t see her, 
you know.” But here she reckoned without her 
guest. 

In less than a week Mrs. Leach was frequently 
smoothing the sick man’s pillow. She paid him 
a little visit daily, to which he actually looked 
forward. She told him all the latest news, she 
flattered him, and she made an agreeable object 


270 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


in the sick-room, with her charming gowns and 
handsome face. 

After all, she took no part in the management 
of the house, nor did she see visitors, or write 
notes. She was (she said) so stupid about do- 
mestic matters. It seemed to Madeline that their 
prearranged roles were exchanged ; she kept to 
her usual duties as housekeeper and mistress of 
the establishment, and Mrs. Leach gave more 
and more of her time to the sick-room. She had 
a pleasant voice which never tired, and read 
aloud to the invalid for hours. She made him 
his afternoon tea with her own fair hands, and 
always took a cup with him. Indeed Mrs. Leach 
cruelly maligned herself when she called herself 
stupid; on the contrary, she was an excessively 
clever woman, twice as worldly-wise as her 
pretty Madeline. In her heart of hearts, she 
had determined to be Madeline’s stepmother; 
but Madeline must marry, she would prefer the 
house to herself, and she looked round the gor- 
geous yellow drawing-room with the air of a pro- 
prietor, and indeed had already mentally altered 
the arrangement of the furniture! Why did not 
Madeline accept one of the gilded youths who 
fluttered round her? There was some story in 
Madeline’s past, and if she could not steal the 
key to her skeleton cupboard, she was determined 
to pick the lock, for she had had a glimpse through 
the keyhole — and there teas something inside! 
This glimpse had been afforded her by means of 
a young lady who had stayed at the same hotel 
at Harrowgate, a Miss De Ville, who had been 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


271 


for several years at the same school as the lovely 
Miss West. Crafty Mrs. Leach affected a very 
faint acquaintance with Miss West but a very 
warm interest in Miss De Ville and her school 
days, and even went so far as to ask her in to tea 
in her own little sitting-room, and showed her 
the photographs of her cousins, the Countess of 
Cabinteely and the Honorable Mrs. Greene-Pease. 

‘^And so you were at school with Madeline 
West, the Australian heiress?” she said. 

“Yes, for several years; the last year and a 
half she was a pauper — a pupil-teacher who re- 
ceived no pay — and I do believe wore Miss Se- 
lina'^s old shoes.” 

“How extraordinary!” 

“Yes; her father never paid for her, though 
for years before he had paid very highly. She 
learned everything, even swimming and riding, 
and had most lovely clothes. Then he disap- 
peared. However, he has bobbed up again with 
quantities of money, by all accounts— a/ jjrc5- 
cnf.” 

“And when he came home was he not ashamed 
of himself? What excuse had he when he found 
his daughter in such a condition?” demanded 
Mrs. Leach. 

“I don’t know; he did find her there. But 
this is the funny thing: she had been sent away 
in disgrace^ so it was whispered, one Christmas 
holidays, and was absent for a good while.” 

Mrs. Leach opened her great dark eyes and 
exclaimed, “Good gracious! Where was she? 
What had she done?” 


272 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘Well, it happened in the holidays, you see, 
and just afterv^ard there was a great piece of 
fuss about Miss Selina’s marriage and quarrel 
with Mrs. Harper, so that put the thing aside; 
but we did hear through the servants,” and here 
she had the grace to redden, “that Miss West 
had run away from school.” 

“And was that all?" 

“Well, Mrs. Leach, don’t you think it a good 
deal?” 

“Of course, of course!” impatiently, “shock- 
ing, abominable ! But were there no details and 
no particulars — no reason given for her esca- 
pade?” 

“No; and Mrs. Harper and Miss Letitia, when 
I asked them plump out one day, when I was 
staying in the neighborhood and was having 
supper with them, denied it most emphatically. 
They were quite angry, 

“Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Leach, with a gasp of 
disappointment. “Hushed it up for the credit 
of the school, eh?” 

“No, they said Miss Selina had made dreadful 
mischief, and been the cause of Madeline being 
sent away for a little time; but we have never 
heard Miss Selina’s version of the story,” she 
added expressi vely. 

“Where is she now?” 

“Oh, she married a clergyman much younger 
than herself, and has gone to the South Sea Isl- 
ands.” 

“Yes, well out of the way. And are you in- 
timate with Miss West?” 


MABRIED OR SINGLE?. 


273 


‘‘No; we had a quarrel the last year she was 
at school with me and did not speak for months/’ 

“What was it about?” 

“Oh, something trivial, hairpins, I think, or 
not passing the butter ; but I never really liked 
her. Still, for old times’ sake, I have sometimes 
thought of calling. My aunt, Lady MacWeasle, 
knows her, and says the Wests give magnificent 
entertainments and go everywhere.” 

“Yes?'” 

“I’ve seen her driving in the Park, beautifully 
dressed; but I am sure she is painted. Perhaps 
some day I shall call, or rather get my aunt to 
take me.” 

“Well, dear, there is the first dressing-bell, so 
I must send you away. Good-by, for the pres- 
ent. I have enjoyed this little chat so much, 
you have such a way of interesting one.” And 
really, for once, Mrs. Leach was speaking the 
pure and unadulterated truth. 


274 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XXVIII 

A PORTIERE WHICH INTERVENED 

Mr. West was ably nursed, he was wiry, 
and he struggled back to a most trying, peevish 
convalescence, greatly hastened by Mrs. Leach’s 
assiduous attentions; and early in January he 
was ordered off to the Riviera without delay. 
He was to go to Nice, and, of course, he was not 
to go alone. Madeline would accompany him. 
What would Laurence say to this? 

In her father’s present precarious state of 
health, she dared not tell him her news, it 
would be too great a shock; and yet she almost 
dreaded facing her husband with another excuse. 

Laurence was not to be trifled with, still less 
her father. What an unlucky creature she was! 
she said to herself tearfully. 

Between these two men, who had such claims 
upon her, what was she to do? Which was to 
be sacrificed, father or husband? And then 
there was little Harry. 

And yet her father clung to her as tena- 
ciously as if he were a child, and could scarcely 
endure her out of his sight. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


275 


Circumstances put tremendous pressure upon 
her, circumstances in the shape of doctors, her 
father, and her fears; and she allowed herself, 
as usual, to drift. 

It was quite settled that she was to go to Nice 
— in fact there had never been any question of 
her remaining behind— and to stay there until 
May. She had no alternative in the character 
of Miss West, go she must; but in her character 
of Mrs. Wynne, how was she to act? What 
about her husband and son? 

She dared not again venture a visit to the 
Temple, so she wrote a very loving, pleading 
little letter, putting everything before Laurence 
in the best and strongest light, as seen from her 
own point of view, and imploring him to be 
patient just a little longer until her father was 
well enough to bear the shock — and to live 
without her. To this letter she received no 
reply for ten days. 

Then Mr. Jessop called, he was an occasional 
visitor at Belgrave Square. He felt a certain 
cynical pleasure in watching both ‘4iands” in 
this curious game. It was ten times more inter- 
esting than the best novel going, or even the 
latest society play, so he told himself. To see 
little — no, she was not little, but young — Mrs. 
Wynne once, and to see her as she was now, 
was indeed a most startling contrast. To see 
Laurence working away like a horse in a mill, 
was another fine sight. And to behold a 
couple, once so devoted, so absolutely indiffer- 
ent to one another, so totally divided by that 


276 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


great gulf, wealth, was the strangest spectacle 
of all ! 

Mr. Jessop occasionally dropped in on a Sun 
day afternoon, and paid his respects to Miss 
West and her father. A short time before their 
departure for the sunny South, he called to take 
leave and wish them “bon voyage.” It was 
one gloomy January afternoon. Mr. West was 
not visible, but Miss West received him and 
various other visitors in a snug, warm little 
drawing-room, one of a suite where she dis- 
pensed small talk, smiles, and afternoon tea. 
Mr. Jessop sat out all the other visitors with 
imperturbable resolution, and when the last had 
risen and departed, he brought his chair nearer 
to the fire unasked, crossed his long legs, stuck 
his glass in his eye, and, after a momentary 
jiause, said: 

“And how does Laurence look upon this little 
expedition of yours?” 

“He has not answered my letter; but, you 
know, silence gives consent,” was the smiling 
response. “Are you surprised?” and she 
awaited his verdict with smiling, upraised eyes. 

“Well, frankly, I am.” 

“You, under similar circumstances, would not 
be so complacent?” 

“No; I should probably be up before the 
‘beak’ for wife-beating.” 

“Mr. Jessop!” 

“Mrs. Wynne!” 

“Hu-s-sh!’ with a quick gesture of dismay. 

“Well, I will ‘hu-s-sh!’ as you wish it; but it 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


277 


will be shouted on the housetops some day. 
How you have kept the secret for so long 
amazes me; even Wjmne’s old friends don’t 
know of your existence. His own distant rela- 
tions have actually reinstated him. They be- 
lieve that he made a fool of himself with a 
penniless shop-girl or teacher, and is now a not 
disconsolate widower!” 

This was a very nasty speech ; but Mr. Jessop 
was in a bad humor. When he looked round 
this luxurious abode, and had seen Mrs. Wynne 
receiving homage and dispensing favors among 
a little court, and then recalled his old school- 
fellow’s quarters, his ascetic life, his laborious 
days — his heart became hot within him. 

‘‘Why do you say such horrid things?” she 
asked petulantly. 

“When did you see Laurence last?” 

“I’ve not seen him for ages — centuries! Not 
since I dined with him in his chambers. I 
walked in and found him entertaining two men. 
Oh, I wish I could draw their faces!” 

“I wish you could! I heard of that. You 
gave the staircase something to talk about. 
Laurence is on circuit now. I dined with him 
a couple of weeks ago. He is working very hard 
— too hard; but he won’t mind any one. I must 
say you are a prptty pair!” 

“Thank you; it is not often that you pay me 
a compliment!” she returned, with a bend of 
her head. 

“And Harry?” 

“He is very well.” 


278 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


“I must run down and see him when I can, as 
one of the duties of a godfather.’' 

“Yes; he is growing quite a big boy, and will 
soon be able to use your knife and fork.” 

“I’m glad to hear it; but I should have 
thought he wanted some teeth first!” Then, as 
a clock chimed, “Hullo! that is half-past six, 
and I must go ; and you are off next week, and 
go straight through to Nice ivagon de luxe, and 
all that sort of thing?” 

“Of course,” with a slightly defiant smile. 

“Have you any message for 

“No, thank you; I’m afraid you would be an 
indifferent Mercury. No, I have no message. 
Good-by.” 

They shook hands rather limply, and he took 
leave. As the door closed on Mr. Jessop she 
gave a long sigh of relief, and was about to 
reseat herself, when her quick ear caught a 
sound behind a heavy Velvet portiere which 
divided the room from an inner sanctum; it 
was the sound of the dropping of a small article, 
such as a bangle or thimble, on the parquet. 
Prompted by a sudden and inexplicable impulse, 
she pulled aside the curtain, and Mrs. Leach, 
with a blotter in her hand and an expression of 
embarrassment on her face, stood revealed. 

“I — I — was writing in there, dear, some 
urgent notes, and I have dropped my pet pen. 
It is one I am so fond of. Do help me to look 
for it, darling.” 

Mrs. Leach was inclined to embonpoint and 
rather stiff. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


279 


‘‘Oh, it is easily found!’’ said Madeline, pick- 
ing it up after a moment’s search. As she 
handed it to its owner, who had now advanced 
to the full light, their eyes met. Madeline read 
in those uneasy, slyly scanning orbs that their 
owner had her suspicions, that this smiling 
widow had been listening behind the portiere. 
Should she tax her or not? 

Mrs. Leach was an adept at reading faces. 
She saw that Madeline distrusted her smooth 
lies, that Madeline was secretly terrified, that 
Madeline was eagerly searching her mind as to 
what she could possibly have heard ; that it was 
a critical moment. Accordingly she made a 
bold move. 

‘ ‘ I know what you think, dear, ’ ’ she said, ooming 
up to the fire and warming one foot— “you think 
I have been unintentionally eaves* dropping. ” 

She had been eagerly listening, with every 
nerve strained, for ten whole minutes ; but, alas ! 
the portiere was very thick, the sounds were 
muffled, and she had, unfortunatel}^, caught no 
names. She was certain that she had been in 
every sense on the threshold of dear Madeline’s 
secret; but, alas! she had not got beyond that; 
had only caught a word here and there. The 
word “Hush!” something about “shop-girl,” 
and “a widower”; something about “a stair- 
case,” and a “compliment”; something about 
“a knife and fork,” and, lastly, two whole sen- 
tences, “How you have kept the secret for so 
long amazes me!” and “Have you any message 
for him?” 


280 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Whoever this him was, he was Miss West’s 
lover, the man whose influence enabled her to 
turn a deaf ear to every other suitor. Presum- 
ably he was not presentable. If Madeline would 
but marry him, or elope with him, the course 
would be open to her, she would easily step into 
her place. The main thing was to lull Made- 
line’s suspicions, to give her plenty of rope; in 
other words, opportunities for meetings, to pre- 
tend to see nothing, yet to allow nothing to 
escape her vigilance. This man — his name was 
Jessop — was in Madeline’s secret, the secret 
she had kept so amazingly! If she played 
her cards properly, she, too, would soon share 
it! 

“I declare I did not hear a single word. I am 
a little deaf since I had the influenza; so what- 
ever you were talking about is perfectly safe as 
far as I am concerned.” 

Madeline made no reply, but came and stood 
before the fire, and her pretty, level brows were 
knit. She was endeavoring to recall her recent 
convwsation, and as well as she could recollect 
she had said nothing that incriminated her. 
She breathed more freely. The portiere ivas 
thick— it was wadded; but, all the same, she 
did not believe her fair companion. Her mouth 
said smooth things; but her eyes had told tales. 
Her suspicions were aroused ; but she, too, could 
play a part. 

‘‘Of course; no lady ever lends herself to 
eavesdropping, I know,” she said quietly. “Mr. 
Jessop and I were merely quarreling; we often 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


281 

quarrel. He has a knack of rubbing people up 
the wrong way.” 

‘‘Oh, Mr. Jessop! is that his name? He is a 
most cynical, disagreeable-looking man. When 
did you first meet him, dear?” 

“He called on me.” She did not add where — 
viz., in Solferino Place. “He is rather amusing 
when he is in a good humor.” 

“What is he?” 

“A barrister; a clever, idle barrister.” 

“Oh, is he a barrister? Do you know, I rather 
like them. I wonder if he would take us over 
one of the inns, and to see the Law Courts and 
Temple? Wouldn’t you like to see it, some 
day?” 

“No. I don’t think I should care much about 
it,” rejoined Madeline with studied indifference. 

Could — oh, could Mrs. Leach have guessed 
anything? At any rate, she was getting hot^ as 
they say in magic music ; and, to put an end to 
such hazardous conversation, she went over to 
the piano and began to play a little thing of 
Grieg’s. Now that she suspected Mrs. Leach, 
handsome, well-mannered, charming, Ipw-voiced 
Mrs. Leach, of wishing to play the spy, her terri- 
fied memory recalled many little items which she 
pieced together : how Mrs. Leach had a careless 
way of looking over all the letters, of hearing 
two conversations at the same time, of asking 
strange and seemingly stupid questions — espe- 
cially about the last years of her residence at 
Harperton ! 

In the early days of Mr. West’s convalescence, 


2S2 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


when his appearance downstairs and his temper 
had been somewhat fitful, Madeline found her- 
self one afternoon alone in the library with Lord 
Tony. He was talking of the theaters, and urg- 
ing her to accompany him and Lady Rachel to 
the Haymarket. 

‘‘This beastly snow has stopped the hunting, 
and there is nothing to do but skate and go to 
the play. Why can’t you come to-night? Your 
father is pretty nearly all right; and Mrs. Leach 
will look after him. It’s a capital piece. Oh, I 
forgot!” and he paused; he had been walking to 
and fro, with his hands in his pockets. 

“Forgot what?” looking up from her em- 
broidery. 

“That you’d seen it before.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked, gazing at 
him with dispassionate calm. 

“I mean that I saw you there, now I remem- 
ber; but I didn’t see your chaperon! You 
needn’t look so stunned; you were with a good- 
looking chap, in a stage box. You sat with 
your back to the audience, too.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“And you appeared to be delighted with the 
piece; but I thought your friend seemed a little 
bored. And, don’t you remember, I spoke to 
you in the vestibule? Who was he?” 

“Oh, yes! Looked rather bored, did he? 
Then surely you can guess who he was!” now 
smiling expressively. 

“Not” — coming to a standstill — “not your — ” 

“Hush! Yes.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


283 


“Well, I am blessed! He is a gentleman^ 
anyway/’ 

“Thank you. I must tell him; he will be so 
pleased.” 

“I mean that he looks clean-bred; not like — ” 
and he stopped. “Of course I can easily find 
out who he is; but, honor bright, I won’t! I 
will forbear.” 

“Then, I’ll take pity on your starving curios- 
ity. His name is Wynne.” 

“What, the writing chap?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you are Mrs. Wynne?” 

“I am under that impression.” 

“He must be a long-suffering sort of fellow, 
or—” 

“Or what?” 

“I was going to say something that might 
sound rude.”- 

“Oh, pray don’t hesitate on my account ! I’ve 
often heard you say rude things ; and one speech 
more or less does not signify.” 

“Yes; and it may serve as a slight antidote to 
the large doses of fiattery you are forced to swal- 
low. ’ ’ 

“Come! Or whaif^ 

“I was going to say, he does not care a rap 
about you. It’s a little way married men have, 
particularly in these days of emancipated woman- 
kind — especially wives. Does he care, Mrs. 
Wynne?” 

“You want to know too much,” she answered, 
without raising her eyes, “Some day I shall 


284 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


make you acquainted with one another, and then 
you can ask him.” 

“All right, then; I will. I suppose Mrs. 
Leach is going abroad with you?” 

“Oh, dear, no!” she replied, with unusual 
emphasis. 

“Then she is not living here altogetherf^ 

“Oh, no! What an absurd idea!” 

“She is a handsome woman for her age, al- 
though she will never see fifty again.” 

“I think she will.” 

“You mean that she will live to a hundred?” 

“No. I mean that she is not more than thirty. ’ ’ 

“I should be sorry to be hanging since she was 
fifty!” 

“Every woman is the age she looks,” said 
Miss West, sententiously. 

“So be it; neither Mrs. Leach’s age nor looks 
concern me. You and she hit it oft together 
pretty well, don’t yon?” 

“Certainly,” she answered rather loftily. 

“Then that is all right!” in a tone of brisk 
relief. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Miss West, excuse me, if I repeat your own 
recent reply to me, you want’ to know too much.” 

“If you imply — ” she began, but hesitated, 
for at this instant the door was opened by a foot- 
man, and Mr. West entered, leaning on Mrs. 
Leach’s arm, while his valet followed with a 
supply of papers, rugs, and cushions. They 
formed quite an interesting procession. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


285 


CHAPTER XXIX 

“MR. WYNNE!’’ 

A FEW days before their departure for the 
sunny south, Miss West, her father, and several 
visitors were sitting in the drawing-room, the 
tall shaded lamps were lighted, the fragrant five- 
o’clock cup was being dispensed by Madeline; 
who was not, as Lady Rachel remarked, in her 
usual good spirits. Lady Rachel had thrown 
off her furs, she had secured a comfortable seat 
in a becoming light, and was flirting audaciously 
with a congenial spirit. Mrs. Leach was of 
course present, and an elderly colonel, Mrs. 
Veryphast (a smart society matron), her sister, 
and a couple of Guardsmen — quite a gathering. 
Mrs. Veryphast was laughing uproariously, Mrs. 
Leach was solemnly comparing notes respecting 
dressmakers with Mrs. Veryphast’s sister. The 
colonel, Mr. West, and Lord Tony, were discuss- 
ing the share list. The Guardsmen were devot- 
ing themselves to the fair tea maker, when the 
ante-room door was flung open with a flourish, 
and a footman announced “Mr. Wynne!” 

This name was merely that of an ordinary 


i 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


28 f> 

visitor — one of the in altitude who flocked to offer 
incense to his daughter, a partner and a slave, 
in fact, in the ears of every one save two— Lord 
Tony’s, and Mrs. Wynne’s. The latter felt as 
if she had been turned to stone. Had Laurence 
come to make a scene? to claim her? She 
breathed hard, living a whole year of anxiety in 
a few seconds of time. The hand that held the 
sugar-tongs actually became rigid through fear. 
She glanced at her father. He, poor innocent 
individual, was totally unconscious of the crisis, 
and little supposed that the good-looking young 
fellow now shaking hands with Madeline was 
actually his son-in-law I 

^‘Oh, how do you do?” faltered Miss West, 
and raising a swift, appealing, half-terrified look 
to the stranger. “Papa, let me introduce Mr. 
Wynne.” 

Mr. Wynne bowed, uttered a few common- 
places to the invalid, and stood talking to him 
for some time. 

Meanwhile, Mr. West noticed with satisfac- 
tion the air of refinement and of blue blood 
(which he adored) in the visitor’s appearance 
and carriage. Wynne was a good name. 

No one guessed at the situation, except Lord 
Tony. His breath was taken away, be looked, 
he gaped, he repeated the same thing four times 
over to Mrs. Veryphast — who began to think 
that this jovial little nobleman was a fool. To 
see Miss West thus calmly (it looked so at a 
distance) present her husband to her father, as 
he afterward expressed it, “completely floored 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


287 


him.” And the old chap, innocent as an in 
fant, and Wynne as cool as a cucumber, as self- 
possessed as it w'as possible to be ! 

And then suddenly Lady Rachel turned round 
and saw him, and called out in her shrill clear 
voice, “W'hy, Mr. AV'ynne, is it possible! who 
would have thought of seeing you here? Come 
over and sit beside me,” making room on the 
Chesterfield couch, “and amuse me.” 

“I’m afraid I’m not a very amusing person,” 
he replied, accepting her beringed fingers, and 
standing before her. 

“You can be, if you like ; but perhaps you now 
reserve all your witty sayings for your stories. 
Are you writing anything at present?” (Stereo- 
typed question to author.) 

“No, not at present,” rather stiffly. 

“I did not know you knew the Wests. Mad- 
die dear,” raising her voice, “you never told me 
that you and Mr. Wynne were acquaintances.” 

Madeline affected not to hear, and stooped to 
pick up the tea-cozy, and hide a face which had 
grown haggard; while Mr. West, who had gath- 
ered that Wynne was a rising man, and that his 
books were getting talked about, invited him to 
come and sit near him, and toll him if there was 
anything going on— anything in the evening 
papers?” 

“You see, I’m still a bit of an invalid,” indi- 
cating a walking-stick; “shaky on my pins, and 
not allowed to go to my club. I’ve had a very 
sharp attack, and I’m only waiting till the 
weather is a little milder to start for the south 


288 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


of France.’* He had taken quite a fancy to this 
Wynne (and he did not often fall in love at first 
sight). 

Madeline looked on as she handed her husband 
a cup of tea, by her parent’s orders, and was 
spellbound with amazement and trepidation to 
see Laurence and her father, seated side by side, 
amiably talking politics, both being, as ifc provi- 
dentially happened, of the same party. This 
Was to her almost as startling a spectacle as if 
an actual miracl'e had been performed in the 
drawing-room before her eyes. 

That her attention strayed in one particular 
direction did not escape Mrs. Leach’s observa- 
tion. Could this be — But no, he was far too 
presentable, he was evidently one of the Wynnes 
of Rivals Wynne; she herself saw the strong 
family likeness. He was absoluteij at his ease, 
he scarcely noticed Miss West, though she glanced 
repeatedly at him, was looking pale and agitated, 
talked extreme nonsense, and filled cups at random. 

Xo, no; this man was not the mysterious 
friend. No such luck for Madeline; and, if he 
had been, he never could have had the nerve to 
walk boldly and alone into the very lion’s den. 
But he probably knew the real Simon Pure, and 
was a go-between and messenger. Yes, that 
was it. Having thus disposed of her question to 
her entire satisfaction, and carefully studied Mr. 
Wynne, from the parting of his hair to the but- 
tons of his boots, she turned and exercised her 
fascinations on the colonel, who was one of her 
sworn admirers. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


289 


Lady Rachel, who had wearied of her com- 
panion, threw him off with an airy grace — which 
is one of the finest products of civilization — and, 
on pretense of having a little talk with Mr. West, 
cleverly managed to monopolize Mr. West’s com- 
panion, chatting away most volubly — though 
now and then Mr. West, who was well on the 
road to recovery, insisted on having say; 
and, as he discovered, Laurence had leisure to 
take in the magnificence of his surroundings. 
The lofty rooms, silken hangings, velvet pile 
carpets, priceless old china, and wealth of exotic 
flowers. Everything seemed to cry out in chorus, 
‘ ‘ Money ! money ! money I M oney everywhere. ’ ’ 
Madeline, in a velvet gown, sitting in the ^midst 
of it, mistress of all she surveyed, with a young 
baronet on one side, and a duke’s heir on the 
other, absolutely hanging on her words. Her 
beauty, in its setting of brilliant dress, soft light, 
and a thousand feminine surroundings, failed to 
impress him. It was for this — looking about, 
and taking in footmen, pictures, gildings, silver 
tea equipage, the heav}" scented flowers, soft 
shaded lamps, the sparkle of diamonds, the 
titled, appreciative friends in one searching 
glance — that she had deserted — yes, that was 
the proper word — deserted him and Harry. Even 
as he watched her, she was nursing a Chinese 
lap dog (a hideous beast in his opinion), and call- 
ing the attention of her companions to her darl- 
ing Chow-chow’s charms. “Look at his lovely 
curled tail!” he heard her exclaim, “and his 
beautiful little black tongue !” And, meanwhile. 


290 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


the farmer’s wife was nursing her child, who 
did not recognize his mother when he saw her. 


CHAPTER XXX 

MARRIED OR SINGLE? 

Mr. West and his new acquaintance had ap- 
parently an inexhaustible capital of conversa- 
tion, and still kept up the ball, as other people 
departed one after the ether. Madeline knew 
that Laurence was resolved to sit them all out, 
for, a^ he laid his cup and saucer beside her, he 
said, in a whisper only audible to her, ^H’m go- 
ing to wait, I must have a word with you alone ” 

After a time, when he was positively the last 
visitor, and the clock was pointing to half past 
six, he too rose and took leave of Mr. West — 
who expressed a cordial hope that they would 
see him whenever they came back to town — and 
of Madeline, who instead of ringing the bell, 
cross6>d the room with the visitor, airily remark- 
ing to her father, “I’m just going to show Mr. 
Wynne that last little picture you bought at 
Christy’s — he is so fond of paintings. I’ll be 
back immediately” — effecting her escape at the 
same moment by opening another door, through 
which she waved her husband, saying hurriedly, 
“In here, in here, the picture is there. Come 
along and stand before it; and now ivhat is it?” 

The room was dimly lighted, and there was 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


291 


not much light upon the painting, but that was 
of no consequence to Laurence Wynne. He, 
however, took his stand before it, glanced at it, 
and then, turning to his companion, said grave- 
ly, ‘‘All right. I’ve come to answer your letter 
in person.'^ ^ 

“Laurence! I never knew of such madness! 
Talk of my going to your chambers — it was noth- 
ing; but for you to venture here — ” and her eyes 
and gesture became tragic. “Positively, when I 
saw you walk in, I felt on the point of fainting.” 

“I am glad, however, that you did not get be- 
yond that point. I was surprised to see your 
father so well; after your account of him — ” 

“Oh, that was written more than a fortnight 
ago; he is much better — but weather bound — 
on account of the snow in the south.” 

“Well, yes; and your letter was overlooked, 
and not forwarded. I’ve been away on circuit.” 

“I believe you don’t care whether I never write 
to you or not; nor to hear what I’m doing?” 

“Oh, but, you knovv, I am always well posted 
in the society papers.” 

‘ ‘ Society papers ! ’ ’ 

“Yes; I see them at my club. Besides, I can 
actually rise to a couple of sixpences a week — 
and I read how the lovely Miss West was at a 
ball, looking very smart in straw color; or had 
been observed at church parade wearing her new 
sables; or shopping in Bond Street, looking very 
bright and happy ; or — at — the theater glorified 
in diamonds and gold embroideries. However, 
I have at last made your father’s acquaintance; 


292 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


he does not seem to be such a terrible ogre ! You 
may have noticed how pleasant he was to me; 
we got on like a house on fire. I do not think 
that your disclosure will have the awful conse- 
quence you anticipate, and I am perfectly confi- 
dent that it will be attended with no ill effects as 
regards bis health. I am sure you have taken a 
wrong estimate of his character. He may fly 
into a passion just at first — I fancy you may ex- 
pect that — but he will calm down, and we shall 
all be very good friends; and I am certain he 
will be delighted with Harry.” 

“I am not at all so sanguine as to that,” re- 
turned his wife dubiously; ‘‘and you have not 
yet told me, Laurence — and we have no time to 
lose— has brought you here?” 

“I came, as I have said before, to answer your 
letter in person. I am glad I have done so, I 
have seen things with my own eyes, and I can 
realize your position more clearly than hitherto. 
I see you surrounded with luxury. A duchess 
could have no more. I see your father, by no 
^means the frail invalid that I was led to expect; 
I see your friends — your — pausing expressively 
— admirers! I’ve had, in short, a glimpse into 
your life, and realized the powerful cords — you 
call them claims — that bind you here, and have 
drawn you away from me.” He paused again 
for a moment, making a quick gesture with his 
hand to show that Madeline must hear him out. 
“ And now I have come to tell you my last Word. 
You will — or, if you wish, I will — tell your 
father the truth now — within the hour. It will 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


293 


then depend upon circumstances whether you 
leave England or not. If your father wishes to 
have you and Harry with him, I shall say noth- 
ing against it.” 

Madeline listened to this long and authoritative 
speech with some dismay. Tiiis plan would not 
suit her at all. What would all her gay society 
friends say — and most of them were coming to 
the Riviera — if, instead of the brilliant Miss 
West, they found Mrs. Wynne — a prodigal 
daughter who had married without leave, and 
who was hampered with a teething baby? And 
Laurence was really becoming quite too over- 
bearing! She would not give in — if she suC’ 
cumbed now^ it was for always. What a fuss 
he was making, simply because she was going 
abroad for three months with her father. 

‘‘Surely you can wait until we come back. 
You see papa is not in a state now for any sud- 
den excitement. 1 will tell him if you wish in a 
month, when he has completely recovered — ” 

“I will wait no longer,” interrupted her hus- 
band. “I have already waited on your good 
pleasure for close upon a year; put off time after 
time, with excuse after excuse, until such a 
period as you could manage to screw your cour- 
age to the sticking-point. I now apprehend that 
that period will be of the same epoch as the Greek 
Kalends! Frankly, Madeline, I am not going to 
stand an}^ more nonsense. I am your husband; 
I can support you — certainly only in a very mod- 
est fashion compared to this,” looking round. 
“You will have no carriage, no maid, no fine 


294 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


clothes — at least not yet\ they may come by-and- 
by. Your father is quite fit to travel alone; he 
ate a remarkably good tea, and told me that he 
had played two games of billiards this afternoon ; 
were he really feeble, it would be a different 
affair. It is shameful — yes, that is the only 
word that will fit the subject— that I should 
have to remind you of your child! He should 
be your first care, now he is delicate— if you 
like; — he wants his mother, poor little chap! 
You will stay at home and look after him. It 
may not be your pleasure, but it is unquestion- 
ably your duty. You can go to Mrs. Holt’s and 
remain there and be welcome as long as you like. 
You were very happy there once, Maddie, ” he 
added rather wistfully. 'No answer, she merely 
raised her eyes and surveyed him fixedly. “I 
will look about for a small furnished fiat; a lit- 
tle villa at Norwood, or wherever you like. 
Lodgings, after this, would be too terrible a 
change — I must admit. 

‘^So would the villa, or even the small flat,” 
she said to herself. In one glance she beheld 
her future: two serva,nts, perhaps; two sitting- 
rooms, perhaps; a strip of back garden with 
stockings on aline; Laurence absent from morn- 
ing till night; nothing to do all daylong, but 
attend to her frugal housekeeping; no smart 
frocks; no smart friends; no excitement, amuse- 
ments, or society. 

She glanced at Laurence. Yes, his linen was 
frayed, there was a hole in one of his gloves, and 
in her heart there flared up a passionate hatred 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


295 


of genteel poverty; it was not life, it was a mere 
dragged-out existence, from Sunday to Sunday 
— from a sirloin of beef to a fore-quarter of mut- 
ton. Ugh! And, on the other hand, the trip on 
the Princesse de Lynxky’s yacht, the already 
made up party for the carnival, the dresses that 
she had ordered for both; the costumes that 
were to dazzle Nice ; the sketch for her carriage 
at the battle of flowers. At last she said : 

“The child is perfectly well, Laurence; I saw 
him a week ago, and he was then the picture of 
health. He is too young to trouble any one yet, 
and Mrs. Holt is an excellent person. Pray how 
many children are sent out to nurse, and their 
parents never see them for two or three years. 
It is always done in France, where they manage 
things so much better than we do. When Harry 
is older, it will be quite different; at present it is 
all the same to a baby where he is, as long as he 
is well cared for. You have suddenly become 
most arbitrary and tyrannical, and as to my 
leaving you for a few months, what is it after 
all? Look how wives leave their husbands in 
India, and conle home for years!” resolved that 
all the hard hitting should not be on his side. 
“You are not like what you used to be, and you 
are very cruel to call my conduct shameful — and 
very rude, too. You are not going the right 
way to work, if you want to recall me home-^ 
to your home. I may be led, but I won’t be 
driven. I shall take my own way about papa, 
and tell him at my own time ; arid, what is more, 
I shall certainly accompany him to the Riviera, 


296 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


and when I return I hope,' ’ speaking breath- 
lessly, and in little short gasps, “I hope that I 
shall find you in a more agreeable frame of 
mind.” 

There was an appreciable pause, and then he 
said, in a tone of angry astonishment, “Are you 
in earnest, Madeline?” 

“In earnest? of course I am !” 

She looked at him; he had grown visibly 
paler, and there was a strange expression in his 
eyes that she did not remember to ha\^e ever seen 
before. Then, speaking in a low, repressed 
voice : 

“In that case 1 must ask you now to make 
your choice, once for all, between your two char- 
acters. You must for the future always be 
known as Miss West, or Mrs. Wynne. We will 
not have this double-dealing any longer. Now, 
which will you be, married or single?” keeping 
his eyes steadily fixed on her with a look of quiet 
determination. “If you wish, we can bury the 
past.” 

No reply. Madeline’s mind was a battlefield 
of doubt, fear, amazement, anger, and self-will. 

“Speak, Madeline!” he reiterated, impatient- 
ly. “Married or single?” 

“If it were not for the child,” she burst out 
passionately; “if my life is to be made a burden 
to me like if you are always to be reproach- 

ing and scolding me—” 

“I see,” he interrupted quickly, “you would 
rather be Miss West. The child, I know, is a 
flimsy excuse, and of no irnportanco; but plee.se 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


207 


to give me a direct answer. I must have it from 
your own lips.’’ 

At this critical juncture the door was opened, 
and Mr. West, somewhat irascible from having 
been left so long alone (Mrs. Leach was dressing 
for dinner), came in, saying, ‘‘Well — well — well 
— Madeline, what is the meaning of this? the 
room is half in darkness. What the deuce has 
kept you— has that fellow — ? Oh, I beg your 
pardon, Mr. Wynne, I did not know you were 
still here. Can’t have seen much of the pictures, 
unless you and Madeline have eyes like cats.” 
(No, they had only been fighting like cats.) 

“Answer me, Madeline,” whispered Laurence 
in a hurried undertone, holding her hand like a 
vise. This action was not seen by Mr. West, 
who had his back to them, and was occupied 
with the poker. “Married or single? Now is 
the time — I shall tell him.” 

^‘Single!^^ replied Madeline, hastily wrench- 
ing her hand away, spurred by immediate fears, 
and regardless of all but the present moment. 

“So be it,” was the low rejoinder. 

And Mr. West, as he vigorously poked the 
fire, and furiously pressed the bell, had no more 
idea than poker or button of the important tie 
that had just been severed. 

Mr. Wynne, looking rather white and stern, 
came over, and again took his leave, and, with- 
out any farewell to Madeline, who was still 
standing in the background in the dusk, he 
opened the door and departed. 

“What have you been doing in here all this 


298 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


time?” asked Mr. West, querulously. “What 
the deuce have you been about? Looked to me 
as if you and that fellow had been having a row. 
Never saw him before. Nice, gentlemanly chap. 
None of your ‘Yaw-haw’ sort of people, with no 
more brains than a pin, and as much conceit as 
a flock of peacocks. No, this man has sense. 
I — By the way, Maddie, you look rather put 
out, too, eh? He has not been proposing for 
you, has he? Come, now, tell your old daddy,” 
facetiously. “Make a clean breast of it.” 

“No, papa,” she answered, in a rather shaky 
tone, “he has not; that is just the last thing he 
would do. You won’t see him again, that’s one 
comfort!” she added, with a final blaze of 
temper. 

“Comfort, comfort? Not a bit of it. I’d like 
to see more of him ; and when we come back, re- 
mind me to ask him to dinner — he belongs to the 
Foolscap Club— don’t forget. What’s his name 
— Wills— Witts?” 

“Wynne.” 

“Yes, yes, to be sure ! A barrister. Humph ! 
one of the Wynnes of Rivals Wynne — good old 
family. Looks a clever chap, too. Bound to 
win^ eh? Not bad, eh?” chuckling. “But 
what were 3^011 talking about? You’ve not told 
me that ^^et.” 

“We were quarreling, papa, that’s all. Our 
first and last quarrel,” attempting to laugh it 
off, with a laugh that was almost h^’^sterical. 
“There’s the first gong!” 

“So it is; and I’m quite peckish. Look sharp 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


299 


and dress!’’ setting an example on the spot by 
harrying out of the room, stick in hand, which 
stick went tapping all the way down the corri- 
dor, till the sound was lost in the distance. 

Still Madeline did not stir. She took a step 
and looked at the picture. Strange omen! It 
represented a farewell — a man and a girl. The 
man was a soldier, one of Bonaparte’s heroes, 
and his face was turned away — the girl was 
weeping. Then she walked over to the fire, arjd 
stood looking into it with her hands tightly 
clasped, her heart beating rather quickly — the 
after-effects of her late exciting interview. Her 
mind was tossed about among conflicting emo- 
tions — indignation with Lawrence, relief, regret, 
all stirring like a swarm of bees suddenly dis- 
turbed. ‘‘What had possessed her to marry 
Laurence Wynne?” she asked herself, now look- 
ing back on their marriage from the lofty emi- 
nence of a spoiled, adulated, and wealthy beauty. 
A certain bitter grudge against him and their 
days of poverty, and the hateful existence into 
which he would drag her back, animated her 
feelings as she stood before the fire alone. 

Such an overbearing, obstinate sort of partner 
would never suit her now. He deserved to be 
taken at his word — though of course he never 
meant it. The idea of any sane man relinquish- 
ing such a wife never dawned upon her. Yes — 
her heart was hot within her — he might go. As 
to the child, that was another matter; he was 
still, of course, her own pretty darling. 

They had never, she ‘^nd Laurence, had a rift 


300 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


upon the tuneful lute; and now a little plain 
speaking and a few angry words had parted 
them for life, as he had said. So be it. 

“So be it,” she echoed aloud, and pulling a 
chain from the inside of her -dress, she unfast- 
ened it, slipped off her wedding ring, and 
dropped it into the fire, which her father had 
poked up to some purpose —little dreaming for 
what an occasion.it would serve. 

Then Madeline went at last, and scrambled 
into her tea-gown with haste, and was just 
down, luckily for herself, in the nick of time. 

After dinner, she was quite feverishly gay. 
She meant to thoroughly enjoy herself, without 
any arrieres pensees. Her sword of Damocles 
had been removed. She went to the piano, and 
sang song after song with a feeling that she must 
do something to keep up her somewhat limp self- 
esteem and her rapidly falling spirits. 


CHAPTER XXXI 

A FALSE ALARM 

Mr. West had enjoyed his dinner; hi^ appetite 
was excellent — on a par with his daughter’s 
spirits. He asked no more troublesome ques- 
tions and departed to bed at an early hour. Mrs. 
Leach, too, had retired (pleading fatigue), to en- 
joy a French novel and cocaine, leaving Made- 
line to sing and make merry alone! After a 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


301 


while she went over and sat on the fender-stool, 
and had a long conversation with herself, and 
tried to persuade her conscience that she had 
done right. She offered it a sop in assuring her- 
self that the next morning she would go down to 
the Holt farm and see Harry, and have a com- 
fortable talk with his nurse. Her father would 
not be out of bed till twelve o’clock. Mrs. 
Leach, too, rarely appeared before lunch. The 
coast would be clear. She carried out this reso- 
lution to the letter, starting from Waterloo by 
an early train, arriving a little after ten at the 
farm in the station fly, greatly to Mrs. Holt’s 
amazement. 

She asked many questions, and was warmly 
assured that “though little Harry was not to say 
a big, strong boy, like Tom, the plowman’s child, 
of the same age, yet that nothing ailed him but 
his teeth, and that his eye-teeth were through, 
and that she (his mother) need not give herself 
no uneasiness. Mr. Wynne was full of fancies. 
Ho was down twice last week, and had been 
alarming her for nothing.” 

“Mr. Wynne — Mr. Wynne,” said Madeline, 
becoming agitated and feeling a certain tight- 
ness in her throat; but knowing that the fact 
she was about to disclose must come out sooner 
or later, and that the first blow was half the bat- 
tle; “Mr. Wynne and I have had a serious dis- 
agreement. We have agreed to differ —and to 
part,” looking steadily out of the window, while 
her face took a delicate shade of red. 

“Laws! gracious mercy !” ejaculated her list- 


302 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


ener, nearly dropping Master AVynne. ‘‘You 
don’t say so! Goodness gracious! you don’t 
mean it, ma’am; you are joking.” 

“No, indeed” — very decidedly — “I am not, 
Mrs. Holt; and you need not call me ma’am any 
more, for though I am married, I am going back 
to be Miss West — always. Please never call me 
Mrs. Wynne again.” 

“But you can’t do that,” exclaimed Mrs. Holt, 
in a loud tone of expostulation; “you are mar- 
ried right and right as I am, unless,” lowering 
her voice, “it’s a divorcee you are after getting?” 

“Divorce? No. Nothing of the kind; but 
Mr. Wynne and I have agreed to be — be stran- 
gers, and to forget that we have ever been mar- 
ried ; and as I am only known to most people as 
Miss West, it will be quite easy.” 

“It’s nothing of the sort, ma’am,” cried the 
other, energetically, “and you are mad to think 
of it. Why, I might just as well go and call 
myself Kate Fisher once more, and give out I 
was never wed to Holt ! That would be a fine 
how-do-you-do! And where there’s children it’s 
worse and more wicked, and more ridiculous to 
think of still. What’s to besafd and done about 
this boy? Who is his mother? You can’t say 
Miss West, now can yon? Believe me,” seeing 
her visitor’s face of crimson astonishment, “it 
won’t do. It’s just one of those common squab- 
bles among married folks that blow over. Why, 
Holt and I has ’ad many a tiff, and we are none 
the worse. You and Mr. W^ynne just make it 
up. You are both young, and maybe he is de- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


303 


termined, and likes to have his own way, as 
most men do; but — excuse me, ma’am, as an 
humble friend and a much older woman than 
yourself, if I make too bold — you are a bit try- 
ing. You see it’s not usual for a young fellow 
to have his wife leave him, and go galavariting 
about as a single lady; and then Mr. Wynne is 
greatly set upon the child. A man, of course, 
expects that his wife will look after his children 
herself. Excuse me again if I make too free, 
but I don’t like to see a young girl going astray, 
whoever she be, without just giving her a wordf^ 
wiping her face with a red -spot ted handkerchief. 
(The family was largely supplied with this fa- 
vorite pattern.) 

Madeline sat in silence, feeling very uncom- 
fortable and wretched; but all the same, obsti- 
nately bent on her own way. 

‘‘Mrs. Holt, you forget there are two sides to 
a question,” she said at last. “I know you 
mean very kindly; but I have to consider my 
father. He has no one but me. He is an in- 
valid, and I am his only child, and must study 
his wishes.” 

“Maybe if he wasn’t so 7'ich you wouldn’t 
think of him so much,” put in Mrs. Holt, 
bluntly. 

“Yes, I would,” retorted Madeline, stung by 
the sneer; “but I see you are prejudiced, Mrs. 
Holt. You forget what the Bible says about 
honoring your father and mother.” 

“No, no, I don’t; but the Bible says a deal 
about husbands and wives, too. I don’t forget 


304 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


that. Stick to your husband; it’s the law o’ 
the land and the law o’ the Bible,” said Mrs. 
Holt in her most unyielding voice. 

She said a great deal more, but she failed to 
persuade her visitor or to bend her pride, and 
she soon perceived that it was of no avail. 
Money and grandeur, she told herself, had 
turned her poor head. Some day she would be 
sorry for what she was doing now; and, any- 
way, it was an ill and thankless task for a third 
person to meddle between a married couple. She 
had always known that he was the better of the 
two; and maybe Holt would allow she was right 
now! Here was a young lady, turning her back 
on husband and child, taking her maiden name 
again, and going off to foreign countries. Pretty 
doings ! pretty doings ! 

At eleven o’clock the fly-man notified that 
time was up, and the lady must go if she wanted 
to catch her train. She kissed little Harry over 
and over again, and wept one or two tears as she 
said : 

“How I wish I could take him with me, even 
if I could smuggle him as my maid’s little l)oy !” 

“Sakes and stars! Mrs. Wynne,” exclaimed 
Mrs. Holt, angrily. “Whatever are you think- 
ing of? I wish his father heard you pass him off 
as a servant’s child. Well, upon my word! I 
never — ” At this crisis words ran short and ut- 
terance completely failed her. 

“Mind .you write to me often, Mrs. Holt — even 
one line. I have left you a packet of addressed 
and stamped envelopes. Please write at least 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


305 


once a week/’ and, with a hurried good-by she 
stepped into the fly, pulled down her veil, and 
was driven off, leaving Mrs. Holt and her son 
upon the steps, the former exciainiing : 

‘‘Well, if she don’t beat all!” while Master 
Wynne dragged violently at her apron, and, 
pointing to the rapidly disappearing carriage, 
shouted gleefully : 

‘ ‘ Gee-gee! Gee-gee !” 

“It is all right, my dear,” whispered Mrs. 
Leach, receiving her with a significant nod. 
“I told your father you had gone to lunch with 
the Countess of Cabinteely, and he was perfectly 
satisfied.” 

In another week Madeline was very pleasantly 
settled in a charming villa at Nice looking out 
over the blue, tideless sea and the Promenade des 
Anglais. She had a landau and pair, a pony 
carriage, and an “at home” day, for not a few 
of their London acquaintances, early as it was, 
had come south. 

Her father rapidly regained his usual health 
and amiability, and lavished presents upon her. 
The horizon before her was literally and meta- 
phorically bright. She was surrounded by quite 
a brilliant pageantry of flatterers and followers, 
and .could not help feeling a pardonable pride in 
the sensation she created and in her remarkable 
social triumphs — in finding bouquets left daily 
at her door, in seeing her name in enthusiastic 
little paragraphs in the local papers, in hearing 
that the fact of her expected presence brought 


306 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


numbers to an assembly or entertainment in or- 
der to see the lovely Miss West, to know that 
she had not an ambition in tbe world unfulfilled. 

Was not this all-suffioient to prove that her 
millennium of happiness had commenced? She 
was the beauty of the season, though she was in 
this particular the victim of an unsought repu- 
tation; she had never aspired to the honor, and 
the character had been forced upon her. All the 
same, she did not dislike the position of social 
queen; and as to Mr. West, he gloried in the 
fact, and basked in the light of her reflected 
splendor. He was even content to be known as 
“Miss West’s father.” As some men pride 
themselves on their family, their estates, race- 
horses, pictures, collection of old china, or silver, 
he prided himself upon his daughter ^ and was 
convinced that he got more enjoyment out of his 
hobby than most people. She was always en 
evidence, and he could see the curious, envious, 
and admiring eyes, as he drove with her about 
Nice, walked with her on the British Quarter- 
deck at Monte Carlo, or escorted her to concerts, 
receptions, balls, or garden parties. Foreign 
dukes and princes were supremely affable to 
him— all on account of the beaux yeux of his 
charming and celebrated Madeline. 

Worth and Doucet had carte blanche, for Mad- 
eline’s costumes must be worthy of her, and 
Madeline was not averse to the idea. A new 
hat, which became the rage, was named after 
her. Such is fame! A new yacht had been 
honored by the same distinction. Youth, 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


307 


beauty, wealth, celebrity — even Fortune seemed 
to go out of her way to crowd favors upon this 
lucky young lady; but, alas I we all know that 
fortune is a fickle jade, who smiles at one mo- 
ment, and who scowls the next. Thus, as a 
kind of social divinity in a gay, earthly Paradise, 
winter glided on with Madeline. Spring had 
appeared with a radiant face and a train of flow- 
ers; the turf under the olives was covered with 
anemones, the valleys were starred with prim- 
roses; jonquils, tea-roses, and narcissus fllled 
the air with fragrance. Sea and sky reflected 
one another — sunbeams glanced from the waves, 
the water seemed to laugh, and the whole face 
of Nature was one good-natured smile. 

The Riviera was full, the carnival about to 
commence. Madeline was in a state of feverish 
gayety and exhilaration. She could not now 
exist without excitement; she must always be 
doing something or going somewhere, and re- 
quired a rapid succession of amusements, from a 
“promenade aux anes” up the valleys, to riding 
a bicycle; from a tea picnic to playing trente et 
quarante. All her regrets, and all her little 
twinges of remorse (and she had experienced 
some) had succumbed to the anodyne of a season 
on the Riviera — and such a season! But on the 
very first day of the carnival her spirits received 
a rude shock in the form of an ill-spelled scrawl 
from Mrs. Holt, which ran as follows; 

“Honored Madam— I think it rite to let you 
no, as little Harry has been verry poorly the last 


308 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


two days; in case he is not better I think you 
ought to know, and mite wish to come home. 
It’s his back teath. The doctor looked very 
cerrius last evening, a"nd spoke of konvulshions, 
but I don’t wish to frighten you. 

‘‘I am your humble servant, 

“Kate Holt.” 

This was a heavy blow. The rush of mater- 
nal impulse swept everything else out of her 
mind. Madeline thrust aside her diamonds, ball 
dress, masks, bouquets, and hurried off on foot 
to the telegraph office, and dispatched a message 
— “If he is not better I start to-night; reply 
paid.” And then she returned to the Villa 
Ooralie, quivering and trembling with impa- 
tience. 

In case of the worst, she told Josephine to pack 
a few things, as she might be going to England 
that night by the Rapide. 

Josephine’s jaw dropped; she was enjoying 
herself enormously. One of the waiters at the 
Cercle was her cousin. The carnival was just 
commencing; this was terrible — must she be torn 
away, too ! Her face expressed her feelings most 
accurately, and her mistress hastened to reassure 
her. 

“I shall not require you, Josephine; I only go 
to see a sick friend. If I hear no good news, I 
start this evening; if the tidings are better, I re- 
main — but I am almost sure to go.” 

“Et monsieur?” elevating hands and eye- 
brows. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


309 


y 


Yes, how was she to announce her departure 
to her father? She made the plunge at once. 
Her fears and her anxieties were not-on his ac- 
count now. She was desperate, and ready to 
brave anything or anybody. 

She ran down into his cool sanctum, with its 
wide-open windows overlooking the bay, its 
gaudy, striped awnings, and veranda full of 
flowers, and finding her parent smoking a cigar- 
ette and absorbed in the “Financial News,” be- 
gan at once. 

“Papa, Fve had bad news from England. A 
—one who is very dear to me is ill, and if I don’t 
hear better news by telegram, I wish to start to- 
night for London.” 

“Madeline!” he cried, laying down the paper 
and gazing at her in angry astonishment. 
“What are you thinking about? Your sick 
friend has her own relatives; they would never 
expect you to go flying to her bedside from the 
other end of France. Nonsense, nonsense!” he 
concluded imperatively, once more taking up the 
“News,” and arranging his pince-nez with 
grave deliberation. 

The matter was decided. But Madeline was 
resolved to make an equal show of determina- 
tion, and said, in a stubborn tone: 

“Papa, in this I must have my own way. It 
is not often I take my own course; I do every- 
thing and go everywhere to please you. Yo.u 
must allow me to please myself for once.”. 

Mr. West pushed back his chair a full yard, 
and gazed at his daughter. 


310 


marri^:d or single? 


‘‘Do not throw any obstacle in my way, papa, 
nor seek to know where I am going.” 

“Ah, ah! Not a lover, I hope, madam?” he 
gasped. “The curate, the — the drawing-mas- 
ter?” 

“No; let that suffice, and let us understand 
one another, once for all. I have been an obe- 
dient daughter to you; I have made sacrifices 
that you have never dreamed of” — (Ah! the 
poor curate! thought Mr. West) — “and you must 
give me more liberty. I am of age to go and 
come as I please unquestioned. I will do noth- 
ing wrong; you may trust me. I can take ex- 
cellent care of myself, and I must have more 
freedom.” 

“Must, must, must! How many more 
‘musts’? Well, at any rate, you are a girl 
to be trusted, and there is something in what 
you say. I dare say you have sacrificed some 
girlish fancy; you have nursed me; you are a 
credit to me. Yes, and you shall come and go 
as you please, on the trust-me-all-in-all prin- 
ciple, and the understanding that you do not 
compromise yourself in any way; but you have 
your advantages, Madeline — a fine home and 
position, and everything money can buy. Re- 
member^ you will miss the best ball if you start 
to-night, and the Princess Raggawuffinsky was 
to call for you. Have you thought of that?’’ 

.“Oh!” with a frantic wave of her hand, 
“what is a ball?” 

“Well, well, well! How much cash do you 
require, and when will you be back?” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


311 


have plenty of money. If all goes well, I 
shall be back in a few days — as soon as possible 
— for the regatta, perhaps.” 

And so, with a few more remarks and assur- 
ances, and expostulations on Mr. West's part at 
her traveling alone, she pocketed a check pressed 
upon her, and left the room victorious. 

Her father was easier to deal with than she 
had anticipated. Laurence was right — for once! 

Then she ran upstairs to her own sanctum and 
locked the door, pulled off her dress, put on her 
cool dressing- wrapper, and sat down in a fever 
of mind and body to wait for the telegram. She 
remained motionless, with her eyes fastened on 
the clock, a prey to the wildest fears. Suppos- 
ing the child was dead! — she shuddered involun- 
tarily ; if it ivere^ she would go out of her senses. 
Her anxiety increased with every hour. She was 
in a frenzy of impatience, now pacing the room, 
now sitting, now standing, now kneeling in prayer. 

At last there was a knock at the door — Jose- 
phine’s knock. Josephine’s voice, JJne depeche 
pour vous, mademoiselle.” 

Mademoiselle’s hand shook so much that she 
could hardly open the door, hardly tear asunder 
the envelope, or read its contents — at a gulp. 
Josephine had never ^een her mistress in this 
frenzied, distraught condition —her color like 
death, her face haggard, her eyes staring, her 
hair hanging in loose ahandon'. What did it 
mean? The telegram brought good news. It 
said, ‘‘He is much better, and in no danger. 
You need not come.” 


312 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


The sender’s name was not notified. Who- 
ever it was, it mattered little; the relief was 
inexpressible. What a fright Mrs. Holt had 
given her, and all for nothing ! 

Miss West went to the ball that night, and 
danced until the dawn flickered along the hori- 
zon. She was one of the most brilliant figures 
at the carnival, and received marked notice in 
distinguished quarters. At the battle of flowers, 
she and her equipage were the cynosure of all 
eyes. The open victoria was made to counterfeit 
a crown, and covered with pink and white 
azaleas. Miss West was attired to correspond. 
Four beautiful white horses were harnessed in 
pink, and ridden by postilions in pink satin 
jackets; and the general effect was such that 
the committee promptly awarded the first ban- 
ner to “la belle Anglaise,” despite the close 
rivalry of a celebrated demi-mondaine, who 
furiously flung the second banner in the faces of 
the judges, and, with her yellow flowers and 
four black 'ponies, had whirled oft* in high 
dudgeon and a cloud of dust. 

At last this enchanting period was brought to 
an end by the Riviera’s own best patron — the 
sun. People melted away as if by magic. Some 
went on to the Italian lakes, some to Switzer- 
land, many to England. Madeline and her 
father deferred their return until the end of 
May, stopping in Paris en route; antT when they 
reached home the season was at its height, and 
the hall and library tables were white from a 
heavy fall of visiting-cards and notes of invitation. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


313 


Lady Rachel and Lord Tony came in on the 
evening of their arrival to pay a little neighborly 
call, and to tell them that they must on no ac- 
count miss a great match — the final in a polo 
tournament at Hurlingham — the next afternoon. 
Every one would be there. 

This speech acted as a trumpet-call to Mr. 
West. 

“Every one will see that we have returned,” 
he said to himself, and it will save a lot of 
trouble. Then, aloud, “All right, then. Lady 
Rachel, we shall certainly go. Madeline must 
trot out some one of her smart Paris frocks. 
And, Madeline, you might send a wire over to 
Mrs. Leach, and offer her a seat down.” 


314 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XXXII 

MR. JESSOP’S SUGGESTION 

Laurence Wynne had taken but one person 
into his confidence, and that was Mr. Jessop. 
As he sat smoking a post-midnight cigar over 
the fire in his friend’s chambers, he told him 
that Mrs. Wynne no longer existed. She pre- 
ferred to stick to her name of West, and wished 
to keep her marriage a secret always from — not 
alone her f^K^^r, bat the whole world. 

This much Irc had divulged. He felt that he 
must speak to some one. His heart was so 
sore that he could not maintain total silence, 
and who so fitting a confidant as his old friend 
Dick Jessop? He was chivalrous to Madeline 
in spite of all that had come and gone, and veiled 
her defects as skillfully as he could, not speak- 
ing out of the full bitterness of his soul. But 
Mr. Jessop’s active imagination filled in all the 
delicately traced outline— perhaps in rather too 
black a shading, if the truth were known ! 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


315 


However, he kept his surmises discreetly to 
himself, and puffed and pondered for a long 
time in silence. At last he spoke : 

would let her alone, and not bother my 
head about her, Laurence ! She is bound to 
come back.” 

‘‘I don’t think so,” responded the other curtly. 

“ Yes ; she will return on account of the child.” 

“And what would such a coming-back be 
worth to me? It will not be for my sake,” said 
Wynne, holding his feelings under strong re- 
straint. 

“I know of something that would bring her, 
like a shot out of a seventy-four pounder,” ob- 
served Mr. Jessop after another pause, surveying 
the coals meditatively as he spoke. 

“What?” 

“Your paying attention to another woman. 
Get up a strong and remarkable flirtation with 
some pretty, smart society matron. Lots of 
them love your stories. Love me, love my 
stories. Love my stories, love me, eh? Show 
yourself in the park, at theaters— better still, a 
little dinner at the Savoy — and ]\frs. Wynne will 
be on in the scene before you can say Jack Rob- 
inson! Jealous}’^ will fetch her!’* 

“I wouldn’t give a straw for the affection of a 
woman who was influenced solely by what you 
have suggested. No, no; I married her before 
she knew her own mind — before she had a chance 
of seeing other people, and the world. Now she 
has seen other people, and become acquainted 
with the world, she prefers both to me. On five 


316 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


or six hundred a year, with no rich relations, 
Madeline and I would have been happy enough. 
As it is, she is happy enough. I must get on 
alone as well as I can. I made a mistake. I 
was too hasty.” 

‘‘Yes, marry in haste, and repent at leisure!” 
said Mr. Jessop, grimly. 

“I don’t mean that; I mean that I mulled that 
business at Mrs. Harper’s. I should have wired 
to Mrs. Wolferton, or insisted on Mrs. Harper 
taking Madeline bade, and given her time to turn 
round and to reflect; but I rushed the whole 
thing. However, I must now abide by the posi- 
tion I am placed in with what fortitude I can.” 

“You married her, and gave her a home, when 
she had no friend,” put in Mr. Jessop, sharply. 
Mr. Jessop was devoted to Laurence, and exces- 
sively angry with Laurence’s wife. 

“It is not every one I would conflde in, Dick,” 
said his companion; “but you are my oldest 
chum. You are welcome to be introduced to 
the skeletoil in my cupboard — an old friend’s 
privilege. We need never talk of this again. I 
suppose people get over these things in time! 
There is nothing for it but work — plenty of 
work.” 

Although he discoursed in this cool, self-re- 
strained manner, Mr. Jessop knew, by years of 
experience, that his friend — who never made 
much, or, indeed, any, fuss about his feelings 
— had felt the blow in every nerve of his body. 

“Do not think too hardly of her, Dicky,” he 
exclaimed, promptly reading the other’s thoughts. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


317 


‘‘She is very young, and very pretty. I’m only 
a poor, hard-working barrister; and she had an 
awful time once — you know when! We must 
never forget how she came through that ordeal. 
And, after all, I have no human rival. If she 
does not care for me, she cares for no other man. 
She is blessed with a particularly cool, unsuscep- 
tible temperament. My only rival is riches. It 
is the money that has ousted me. The enor- 
mous strength of wealth has pushed me out of 
her heart, and barred the door. Time, another 
powerful engine, may thrust her out of 
mine!” 

“Time! Bosh. Time will never thrust away 
the fact that she is the mother of your child. 
He is a tie between you that neither time, riches, 
nor any amount of balderdash you may talk — 
nor any number of matrimonial squabbles —can 
ever break.” 

“You are mistaken in your idea of the whole 
case, Jessop, and under a totally wrong impres- 
sion. Nothing can bridge the, gulf between 
Madeline and me, unless she chooses to come 
back of her own accord, and unsay a good deal 
that she has said ; and this she will never do — 
never. She does not care a straw for me. I 
merely remind her of days of squalor, sickness, 
and hideous poverty. She was delighted to ac- 
cept the freedom which I offered her — ” 

“And what a fool you were to do it!” ex- 
claimed his listener, contemptuously. 

“Not at all; but I should be a fool were I to 
try to keep a wife, who is not even one in name, 


318 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


and never casts a thought to me from month’s 
end to month’s end. I shall be— nay, I am — 
free too.” 

”But not in a legal sense, my dear boy; you 
cannot marry again.” 

“No, thank you,” emphatically knocking the 
ashes off his cigar with great deliberation as he 
spoke. “The burned child dreads the fire. I 
made a bad start this time, and even if I had 
the chance — which, please God, I never shall 
have — I would not tempt Fate again, no matter 
what the provocation. Women are a great mys- 
tery: their chief faults and virtues are so unex- 
pected. Look at Madeline: when we were 
paupers she was a ministering angel. Now that 
she is rich, she is merely a smart society girl, 
and—” 

“And milliners, jewelers, flatterers minister to 
/icr,” broke in Jessop. 

“I intend to make my profession my mistress, 
and to devote myself to her heart and soul. The 
law is a steady old lady.” 

“And a very cantankerous, hard, flinty-faced, 
capricious old hag you’ll find the goddess of Jus- 
tice, my dear fellow. I am going to give up 
paying my addresses to her! My uncle has left 
me a tidy legacy. I intend to settle down in 
comfort in his old manor-house — shoot, fish, 
hunt, burn my wig, gown, and law books, 
and turn my back forever on the Inns of 
Court.” 

“Jessop, you are not in earnest.” 

“I am,” impressively; “and what’s one man’s 


MARKIED OR SINGLE? 


3.19 


loss is another man’s gain. It will be all the bet- 
ter for you, Laurence, since you are so bent upon 
the woolsack. I’ll give you a heave-up with 
pleasure. You will now get all Bagge & Keepe’s 
business, for one thing — and let me tell you that 
that is no trifle. 


320 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XXXIII 
“one of your greatest admirers’’ 

It was a perfect afternoon, and Hurlinghain 
was crowded. Every seat bordering the polo 
ground was occupied, and the brilliant hues of 
hats, gowns, and parasols made a sort of ribbon 
border to the brilliant green turf. Mr. West — 
a fussy or punctual man according to people’s 
point of view — had arrived early with his party, 
and, so to speak,' planted his fair charges under 
one of the umbrella awnings, and in a most cen- 
tral and commanding situation, where Madeline, 
in a white costume, which set off her vivid dark 
beauty, was seen and greeted by many acquaint- 
ances. Lord Montycute, Captain Vansittart, 
and a smart lady friend (Mrs. Ver3"phast) shared 
the shade of the canvas umbrella, and spasmodi- 
cally proffered morsels of the latest and choicest 
news, for the polo was absorbing, the match 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


321 


very fast and closely contested, the excitement 
intense. During an interval Lady Rachel drifted 
near — clad in a rainbow costume, and talking 
volubly and emphatically to a man. Her quick, 
roving eye caught sight of Madeline’s comfort- 
able little party, and she swept down upon her 
at once. 

“Oh, Maddie, my dear girl, how nice and cool 
you look, and I’m half dead, standing baking in 
the sun, and not a chair to be had for love or 
money! Ah, you have two to spare, I see! 
Here — here is actually one for you,^^ She called 
to her escort, who had stopped to speak to a 
passing friend. “Madeline,” she continued, “I 
think you know Mr. Wynne, who writes. Mr. 
Wynne, Miss West is one of your greatest 
admirers! She knows all your stories by 
heart.” 

This was a fiction, invented on the spur of the 
moment. Her ladyship coined many a little 
lie. 

Madeline looked up bewildered. The gentle- 
man who was taking off his hat to her was — 
Laurence! — and yet not Laurence. What had 
he done to liimself? He had discarded his beard, 
and was fashionably clean-shaven ; moreover he 
was fashionably dressed in the orthodox long 
frock coat, and v/ore a flower in his buttonhole, 
and the most absolutely correct gloves and 
tie. 

So much depends upon the style, shape, and 
color of a man’s tie — and the very maker’s name ! 
A rashly selected tie may stamp a man’s taste 


322 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


quite as fatally as the wrong number and pattern 
of buttons proclaim the date of his coat! 

The removal of his beard had entirely. changed 
Laurence Wynne’s appearance. He looked much 
younger: he had a very square chin, his mouth 
was expressive — more sarcastic than smiling — 
with thin, firmly-closed, but well cut lips. Had 
she known of that mouth and chin, had she 
guessed at them — well — she would have thought 
twice before she married their proprietor. As 
she looked up she colored to her hair when she 
met his steady, cool glance. This meeting was 
no surprise to him, for he had noted the entree 
of the beauty, her marvelous costume, and her 
train of admirers. He had not, however, in- 
tended to come to such close quarters. He was 
taken unawares when he found himself in her 
neighborhood, and he was determined to escape 
immediately, in spite of Lady Rachel. The si- 
lence that followed Lady Rachel’s loud prattle 
was becoming noticeable, and curious eyes were 
turned upon him when he said very distinctly — 

“I don’t know if I am so fortunate as to be 
remembered by — Miss West?” 

“Oh, yes,” she answered, rather obviously 
avoiding looking at him, with a bright patch of 
color on either cheek. 

“Miss West has such an enormous acquaint- 
ance of young men that she must get a little 
confused sometimes — a little mixed, don’t you, 
Maddie? Now, Mr. Wynne, I see what you are 
up to,” said Lady Rachel; “but no, you shall 
not run away. Here, sit upon this chair. I 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


323 


had great difficulty in capturing you, you are so 
run-after and spoiled, and now I am not going 
to let you desert. You ought to be thankful for 
a seat in the shade, and among such pleasant 
company!” As he reluctantly seated himself at 
the very outskirts of the group, she continued — 
‘‘Now, you must not sit there looking like a 
snared animal, watching for some chance of 
escape. Do tell me all about the heroine of 
your last story, flow is it that you are so fa- 
miliar with all our little ways and weaknesses? 
You know too much. One would almost sup- 
pose that you were a married man!” 

“I think it must be time to go to tea,” said 
Madeline, glancing appealingly at her father, 
who had just joined them. 

“Tea ! Don’t you wish you may get it ! There 
is not a single vacant table on the lawn. I’ve 
just been to look. Hullo! Ah— er — Wynne, 
how do you do?” 

Mr. Wynne had been pointed out to him as a 
rising junior at the bar — a coming man in litera- 
ture, who wielded an able pen, and was quite 
one of the season’s minor celebrities. His sketches 
were a feature of the day — a short one, natural- 
ly. Every one was talking of him. 

Mr. West loved a celebrity — if he was gentle- 
manly and in good society, hien entendu — nearly 
as much as he loved a lord, but not quite; and 
he added — 

“I remember you were at our house last win- 
ter, and you are interested in paintings and art. 
You must look us up, eh? — and come and dine.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


324 


‘‘Thank you. You are very kind.” 

“We’ve just come back from the Riviera. De- 
lightful place! Were you ever there?” 

“JN’o, I’A^e never been nearer to it than 
Lyons. ’ ’ 

“But I’ve been there,” broke in Lady Rachel; 
“and I shall never go again, on account of the 
earthquakes, although it was capital fun at the 
time.” 

“Fun!” repeated Mr. West, W^ith a look of 
amazement. 

“Yes, half the refugees were running about 
in blankets fastened with hairpins, afraid to re- 
turn for their clothes. Oh, they were too ab- 
surd ! A whole trainful went to Paris in their 
dressing-gowns — some in bare feet. Every one 
was different — ‘out of themselves, ’ as they say 
in France. One old lady, in her mad excitement 
in speeding some relations, actually tore off her 
wig and waved it after them.” 

“Poor old dear! How she must have re- 
gretted it subsequently!” said Lord Montycute. 
“My sister was there at the same time, and paid 
twenty pounds a night for the luxury of sleeping 
in the hotel omnibus. Nothing would induce 
her to go to bed indoors. The hotel was cracked 
from top to bottom!” 

“I don’t care for the Riviera,” remarked Lady 
Rachel. “It’s too hot, and the scenery is ridicu- 
lously gaudy. It always reminded me of a drop- 
scene. I declare to you, sitting on a promenade, 
facing the blue sea and blue sky, and pale, buff 
liromontories and palms, with a band playing in 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


325 

the neighborhood, I have felt as if I was in the 
stalls of a theater.” 

‘‘Oh, shame!” cried Mrs. Leach. “You have 
no feeling for the beauties of Nature.” 

“I thought Monte Carlo lovely — the garden 
too exquisite for v/ords.” 

“And the tables?” inquired Mr. West signifi- 
cantly. 

“Yes, I had my own pet table; and at first I 
was successful. I always went on the ‘doz-ens,’ 
or ‘passe. ^ One day I made ninety pounds in an 
hour; but, alas! I lost it all in about ten min- 
utes.” 

“The tables always do win in the long run,” 
said Mr. West, sententiously. 

“Yes,” agreed Lord Monty cute, “they have 
no feeling, no emotions. When they gain they 
are not excited; when they lose they are not de- 
pressed; and tViis is their advantage.” 

“Oh, but they cannot leave off if they are 
losing,” cried Lady Rachel. “We score 
there. ’ ’ 

‘"‘You did not score, at any rate,” remarked 
Mrs. Leach, with a smile. 

“No; I wish I had left off. There is Mrs. 
Raymond Tufto.- Did you see her at Nice, 
Madeline?” 

“Oh, yes; she went everywhere.” 

“She is wearing that same flower toque. 1 
am so sick of it,” cried Mrs. Veryphast, impa- 
tiently. 

“Nevertheless she is one of the prettiest women 
in London,” observed Captain Vansittart. “She 


326 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


has such a saintly expression, and she looks so 

good.''' 

‘‘She is a horribly heartless wretch. She goes 
off for months on the Continent, and leaves her 
children to nurses at home,” said Lady Rachel, 
viciously. “She has one dear little tot of two 
that actually does not know her by sight.” 

“It is quite the French fashion to board out 
babies,” remarked Mrs. Leach, who was invari- 
ably in opposition to Lady Rachel. 

“Turn them out to walk like young hounds,” 
drawled Captain Vansittart. 

“Mrs. Tufto, bad as she may be, is nothing to 
Lady Blazer,” continued Mrs. Leach, impressive- 
ly. “She has a nursery full of girls, and yet, 
what do you think? When she was asked the 
other day to subscribe to the Society for the Pre- 
vention of Cruelty to Animals, she said, ‘De- 
lighted ! There is' only one species of animal I 
loathe, and that’s a child.'' ” 

“Oh, I say — come! I don’t believe that,” 
cried Mr. West, “of any woman — or even a 
man. I’m rather partial to nice small children 
myself.” 

“Mr. Wynne,” said Lady Rachel, turning on 
him suddenly, “why are you so silent? You 
know it is your metier to talk.” 

“Then why do you grudge me a well-earned 
holiday?” he asked imperturbably. 

“I believe you are studying us for your next 
sketch; taking us in your literary kodak.” 

“No, indeed ! I am not a reporter for a society 
paper.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


327 


“Oh, I don’t mean about our dresses and 
hats, or that; I mean character sketches.” 

“How I should like to sit to you for mineP^ 
said Mrs. Veryphast, vivaciously, moving her 
chair an inch or two nearer to his. “I do wish 
you would make a study of me, and put me in 
one of your charming stories or dialogues.” 

“It would have a fabulous circulation if you 
were the heroine,” said Lord Montycute, with a 
bow. 

Mrs. Veryphast smiled, well pleased. She 
was not always able to distinguish between im- 
pertinence and flattery. Mrs. Veryphast was 
evidently anxious to annex another lady’s friend, 
who had edged himself so far away that he was 
quite an outsider. But he would not be appro- 
priated, neither could he effect his escape. 

“Mr. Wynne,” said Lady Rachel, briskly, 
“you are up in all the principal subjects of the 
day. Do tell us what yoii think of the new 
woman. ’ ’ 

“That she will be an old woman in a few 
years.” 

“So shall I. You are meanly evading the 
question.” 

“I think — Let me think again,” 

“You mean, let me dream again. You seem 
to be half asleep this afternoon. Well?” 

“On reflection, I consider that she is a devas- 
tating social influence.” 

“That can be read in two ways, you wary fox. 
What is your opinion of the -emancipation of 
women — wives especially?” 


328 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


“Upon my word! Lady Rachel, I must pro- 
test!” he answered, with a somewhat fixed 
smile. “You are endeavoring to obtain my 
opinion gratis. I cannot afford it. How am 
I to live?” 

Meanwhile Madeline, looking rather pale, list- 
ened furtively to this passage of arms. 

“ I think you are too horrid. At any 
rate, it cannot hurt your pocket to tell me 
if you approve of the higher education of 
my sex.” 

“No; I prefer the ancient Greek mode — 
complete isolation, wool - spinning, and no 
books.” 

“Gracious! I shall pity your wife^ 

His eyes and Madeline’s met for one half sec- 
ond all the' way across Lady Rachel’s bonnet 
and Captain Vansittart’s broad shoulders. Then 
he stood up. 

“What — going? Oh, Mr. Wynne!” protested 
his captor, with a little scream. 

“I am extremely sorry; but I really must. I 
see a man over there that I want to speak to 
particularly; and I shall lose sight of him 
if I don’t look sharp.” And taking off his 
hat with a comprehensive smile, he was 
gone. 

Yes, Madeline watched him under her para- 
sol. He looked as well as any one — in fact, quite 
distinguished. She Wondered vaguely who was 
his tailor. 

Then people began to discuss him, and she 
gathered by a word from Mrs. Veryphast, and 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


329 


another from Captain Vansittart, that the gen- 
eral opinion of Laurence Wynne was highly 
favorable. 

*‘‘Of fine old stock, but poor; but brains, and 
good race, ought to bring him something,” said 
Mrs. Leach 

‘‘An heiress!” suggested Mrs. Veryphast, 
with a giggle. “ And now I propose that we 
do adjourn, and go to tea.” 

From a distance Laurence noted the party 
en route to refreshments, Madeline and Lord 
Mon tyc Lite bringing up the rear. She belonged 
to another world than his, there was no room 
in her life for him and Harry. As he had chafed 
in Lady Rachel’s chains, he had caught snatches 
of the conversation of the butterflies who flut- 
tered round his wife. He heard of balls, river 
parties, rides, picnics. He was aware that Miss 
West’s society was in immense demand; he 
caught one laughing announcement “that she 
had -four engagements for the next evening, 
and not a spare hour for the next three 
weeks.” 

Not long after that, as he and a friend were 
walking down to Parsons Green station, they 
were pa^ssed by a splendid carriage, which gave 
a glimpse of two frothy-looking parasols, and 
two tall hats. 

“There goes Miss West,” explained his com- 
panion, “the Australian heiress and beauty, 
with Lord Tony on the back seat. I hear 
it is quite settled, they are to be married in 
the autumn.” 


330 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


“Are they? Who is your authority?” 

“I can’t say; it’s in the air. I wonder she 
was not snapped up, long ago, for although 
old West is about as common as they make 
’em, yet every one allows that his daughter 
is charming.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


331 


CHAPTER XXXIV 

MR. WYNNE IS A WIDOWER 

The first opportunity that Madeline could find 
she ventured a visit to the Holts. It was a love- 
ly June morning as she walked up to the front 
entrance of the sequestered farm. She found 
Harry — /icr Harry, a pretty little fellow with 
fair soft hair and surprised dark eyes, sitting 
alone upon the doorstep, and nursing a pointer 
pup. It was useless for her to ask in her most 
winning manner — 

‘‘Harry, dear, don’t you know me? Darling, 
I am your own mother; your own mummy!” 

Harry simply frowned and shook his curls, 
and clutched the puppy tightly in his clasp as if 
he meant to throttle it. 

Presently Mrs. Holt came upon the scene, with 
turned-up sleeves, and stout bare arms, fresh 
from the dairy. She was exceedingly civil, and 
exceedingly cool; invited Miss West into the lit- 
tle parlor, dusted a chair for her, and did her 
best to soften the rigidity and hauteur of little 
Harry’s aspect. 


332 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


After some conversation about his double teeth, 
the weather, and Nice, she said — 

‘^Suppose you and he just go round the gar- 
den, ma’am, and make friends. I’ll leave you 
to yourselves, while I go and see after the din- 
ner.” 

‘‘But pray don’t get anything extra for me^ 
Mrs. Holt,” implored Madeline. “Just what 
you have yourselves. I shall be very angry if 
you make a stranger of me.” 

Mrs. Holt muttered some incoherent reply, and 
went away saying to herself — 

“Not make a stranger of you! and what else? 
Not make any difference for you! I’m thinking 
you’d look very glum if I were to set you down 
to beans and bacon, my grand young London 
madam. Dear me, but she is changed! She 
cannot stir without a sound of rustling ; and the 
price of one of her rings would build a new. 
barn!” 

Meanwhile, Harry and his mother went round 
the garden as desired, hand-in-hand. He could 
talk very plainly for his age, and trotted along 
by her side, considerably thawed in manner. 
This process was due to a lovely ball she had un- 
expectedly produced, a gay picture-book, and a 
packet of candy. He chattered away in a most 
friendly style, and showed her the pigeons, the 
bees, and where the lark was buried — in fact, all 
what he considered the lions of the place; and 
every moment unfolded to his delighted compan- 
ion some additional marvel and charm. 

By the time that one o’clock dinner was read^". 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


333 


the couple were on excellent terms, and he had 
even gone so far as to kiss her, and to put his 
little holland-elad arms round her neck of his 
own accord. The sensation was extremely 
pleasant. 

After dinner— no/ consisting of beans and 
bacon — Mrs. Holt and her guest had a long 
tete-a-tete. The condition of Harry’s health 
was first disposed of, then the state of his ward- 
robe came under discussion. 

“I should tell you, ma’am, since you ask, that 
all the lovely frocks and pelisses you sent from 
France are just laying there. Mr. Wynne won’t 
allow him to wear one of them, nor anything 
you gave him.” 

“And why not, pray?” demanded the young 
lady with considerably heightened color. 

“He told me quite serious, one day,” said 
Mrs. Holt, now speaking with ill-suppressed 
satisfaction, “that what he had worn and ivas 
wearing, as you gave him, he might wear out; 
but no new things were to be accepted, as you 
had nothing to do with the child now. So I 
put them all by, just as they came, in the front 
room wardrobe, and there they are.” 

“What does he mean?” asked Madeline, in a 
sharp key. 

“I’m sure, ma’am, you know better than I do; 
he said as he had no objection to your seeing 
the child, now and then, but that was all. I 
expect Mr. Wynne can be real stiff and deter- 
mined,” smoothing out her apron with an air of 
^solemn disapproval, not of him, but of her visitor. 


334 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Madeline said nothing, but she felt a good 
deal. Mrs. Holt, from her manner more than 
from her words, sat in judgment upon her. 
She, this wife of a common farmer, actually 
dared to criticise the beautiful and admired and 
spoiled Miss West. 

‘‘You see, ma’am,’’ she continued, “you are, 
and you are not, the child’s mother. He does 
not recognize you as that — I mean the child 
himself — you have kept away too long. In 
course you can’t be in two places at once, nor 
be both Miss West and Mrs. Wynne. ’Tisn’t my 
wish, nor my own doing, as I have taken your 
place with the child. He is main fond of me. 
And then, poor Mr. Wynne, he felt your leaving 
him at first, no doubt of that; but he is getting 
over it now, men haven’t as much feeling as we 
think. 

Madeline listened with a guilty conscience, 
every word went home to her with as much 
force as a blow. She had chosen her line, and 
she must stick to single blessedness. There was 
to be no going back, at any rate at present. 

This conviction made her reckless, and she 
rushed with eagerness into the full tide of Lon- 
don gayety with a passionate desire to escape 
from the past, to get away from the clamoring 
of a still articulate conscience, to annihilate 
memory by some great and effective action, and 
to be happ3^! But memory was not so easily 
stifled, a!]d now that Laurence had disappeared 
from her life — such is the contrariness of human- 
ity — sbe wished him back. At times — at races. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


335 


at Hurlingham, in great assemblies, at the thea- 
ter, or in the Row — she searched the crowds for 
him in vain. Mrs. Leach, who was her con- 
stant companion and self elected chaperon, read- 
ing her young friend by the light of her own 
memories, noticed that she was not like other 
girls, content and happy with her company and 
surroundings. There was a restlessness in her 
manner; she seemed to be continually looking 
for some one — some one who never came, who 
was never to be seen. 

Madeline preferred Lady Rachel’s, or Mrs. 
Lorimer’s company to the splendid widow’s 
society, and made futile efforts to shake off her 
shackles — efforts which were vain. 

Yes, among all Madeline’s social successes, in 
the midst of her most dazzling triumphs, she 
ever cast a glance around in search of Laurence. 
Surely, if he went to see her in the full blaze of 
her triumph, he would think twice ere he per- 
manently renounced such a treasure ! She felt 
hot and angry when she thought of him, but 
nevertheless she longed to see him once more- 
odious, unreasonable and tyrannical as he was. 
Surely he did not mean to abandon her in 
reality. That idea had no place in her mind 
when she was abroad. There everything and 
everybody seemed different. It was easy, in a 
strange country, far away from Laurence and 
Harry, to drop a misty cloud over the past, and 
to feel as if she really was Miss West. But here 
in London, where she had lived as a married 
^ woman, and had struggled — and oh, what a 


336 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


struggle! — with the awful question of how to 
support a household on nothing, the idea was 
unnatural; nay, it went further, it was im- 
proper. She would perhaps write to him some 
day, and hold out the olive branch ; but not yet, 
and meanwhile she must see him. 

Mr. West was still extremely uneasy about him- 
self. He found the heat, and dust, and noise of 
London trying to his health, he declared; and, 
much to the disgust of Mrs. Leach and other in- 
terested friends, he announced that the middle of 
July would not find him in England. He was 
going to Carlsbad, to Switzerland, and to winter 
abroad — probably at Biarritz. 

Ere she was thus carried off, Madeline re- 
solved to see Laurence. She prevailed upon 
Lady Rachel to take her to the Temple church. 
She was aware that he . went there every Sun- 
day, and Lady Rachel, little guessing the rea- 
son of her friend’s sudden enthusiasm for the 
venerable edifice, and anxiety to hear a certain 
well-known preacher, procured two tickets for 
benchers’ seats, and occupied them the ensuing 
Sabbath. 

These seats were roomy and elevated, and 
commanded an excellent view of the whole cen- 
ter of the church where the members of the vari- 
ous inns sat. They came in gradually, not in 
legal garb, as Madeline had half expected, but 
in their usual dress; and she strained her eyes 
so eagerly that her sharp little friend nudged 
her and said, “For whom are you looking, 
Maddie?” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


337 


“Oh, no one,” coloring. “It is such a very 
interesting old place. I like staring about. 
What crowds of people who cannot get seats 
and have to stand.” 

At this juncture the organ pealed out and 
every one stood up as the choir filed in; and just 
immediately afterward Lady Rachel exclaimed, 
in an excited whisper, “There’s Mr. W3mne — 
look!” 

Of course Madeline never moved her eyes 
from him; they followed him, as he found a 
seat at the end of a pew, luckily well within her 
view. He could not see her, but she could study 
him, especially when she knelt down, with her 
two hands shielding either side of her face from 
watchful Lady Rachel. 

He looked well, a little grave perhaps, a little 
worn; no doubt he was working hard. He did 
not stare about as did others, nor cast a single 
glance at the radiant figure in the benchers’ 
seats. At times he seemed preoccupied and 
buried in thought, but he gave his undivided 
attention to the sermon, to which he listened 
with folded arms and a critical air, as if he were 
weighing every word of it in his mind, and as 
though it were a summing up of evidence being 
laid before a jury of which he was a member. 
There was no abstracted air about him, his mind 
was on the alert, he had cast the past or future 
aside, and was absorbed in the present. 

The sermon concluded, crowds flocked through 
the ancient doorway, and scattered outside. 
Lady Rachel still lingered, and looked about 


338 


MARRIED OR SINOLE? 


eagerly, ere taking her departure westward, 
and then she exclaimed, in a disgusted voice: 

“I wanted to have asked Mr. Wynne to lunch, 
if I had seen him to speak to,” shaking out her 
parasol and opening it with a jerk of annoyance. 
‘'‘But there he goes, marched off by that girl in 
the green and blue frock — the very sight of it 
turns me cold ! And do you see the old papa 
rushing after them, and accosting him with rap- 
ture? The way in which girls throw themselves 
at men’s heads nowadays is abominable. How- 
ever, it’s a mistake for these bold creatures to 
imagine that men will marry them. They 
either take a wife from the stage or music-hall, 
or some quiet little country mouse. As for Mr. 
Wynne, he is a widower, and I believe his wife 
was a perfect horror — so he will not be caught 
again! Ah, here’s a hansom! Now, my dear 
girl, get in, get in. These dry sermons make me 
frightfully thirsty. I am dying for my lunch.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


339 


CHAPTER XXXV 

INFORMATION THANKFULLY RECEIVED 

The house in Belgrave Square remained closed 
for many months, while its master roamed from 
one fashionable continental resort to another, in 
search of what he called health — but which was 
merely another name for variety and amusement. 
Madeline was at first averse to this protracted 
absence; but she had excellent news of little 
Harry. Laurence was still in what she called 
‘‘the sulks”; and every day weakened her hold 
more and more on her former ties, and bound 
her to her present condition. In the early twen- 
ties a girl is very adaptable, and it had come to 
this, that at times Miss West forgot that she had 
ever had other than this sunny, butterfly exist- 
ence ; and, if her conscience occasionally made a 
claim on behalf of her child, she promptly told 
herself that he was well cared for, and that Lady 
Frederick Talboys sent all her children out to 
nurse until they were three years of age, and 
Harry was barely two. . As for Laurence, he 
would come to his senses in time; and the idea 


340 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


of telling her father of her marriage she now put 
away in the lumber-room of her brain, and rarely 
looked at. 

About Christmas Mr. and Miss West and suite 
arrived at Biarritz, put up at a large and fash- 
ionable hotel, and occupied the best rooms on 
the first floor. They found Biarritz charm- 
ing, Madeline liked the sea, the rolling Atlantic 
breakers, the Basque tongue, and the bronzed 
semi - Spanish peasantr^L Mr. West was 
charmed with the society, the golf links, and 
the Casino. 

One day Mrs. Leach casually arrived at their 
hotel, with a number of basket-trunks and a 
maid, looking very handsome, and was enchanted 
to meet dearest Madeline and dear Mr. West. 
She had heard that they were at Pan, and was 
so surprised to discover them. Madeline was 
such a naughty girl about writing, such a hope- 
lessl}^ lazy correspondent. 

To tell the truth, Miss West was secretly anx- 
ious to shake off the tenacious widow, and was 
purposely silent. 

In less than a week the lady had resumed her 
sway over Madeline’s papa. Her soft manners, 
pathetic eyes, stately presence, and low, caress- 
ing voice proved his undoing. He had almost 
forgotten the Honorable Mrs. Leach — and here, 
in three days, he was as much, or more, her slave 
as ever. So much for men’s vanity and women’s 
wiles. She flattered — he confided. It came to 
pass, as a matter of course, that the lady occu- 
pied a seat beside Madeline in the landau every 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


341 


afternoon. Her maid tripped down with her 
wraps and parasol precisely as if it were her mis- 
tress’s own carriage. Her mistress also occu- 
pied Miss West’s private sitting-room, received 
her friends in it, wrote, and worked, and read 
all the Wests’ papers and books, shared their 
table at meals in the salle a manger, and (but 
this was never known to Madeline) her little 
weekly account for room and board was always 
furnished to and settled by Madeline’s papa; a 
few whispered words on the balcony one night 
had arranged this trifling matter. The hand- 
some widow was completely identified with the 
West family, and was included in all their invi- 
tations as well as their accounts. Every even- 
ing, after dinner, she and Mr. West sat aloof in 
a little alcove while he smoked cigarettes, or on 
the veranda while he smoked and sipped his 
coffee, and she amused him and cut up many of 
the gay and unsuspicious company for his de- 
lectation. She was also confidential respecting 
her own affairs. If she had told him their true 
position his few scanty locks would have stood 
on end. She was almost at the end of her wits, 
and he was her sole hope, her last resource. For 
years she had lived beyond her income — a small 
one. Her dressmaker’s bills would have stag- 
gered even him. She owed money in all drec- 
tions; her creditors were pressing, her society 
friends were not pressing with invitations; her 
husband’s connections ignored her. But if she 
could establish herself in Mr. West’s heart and 
home, as his second wife, she would have before 


342 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


her a new and delightful career. And she had 
begun well! Oertairdy Madeline was irrespon- 
sive and cool, but always pleasant and polite. 
Why was Madeline changefi? However, once 
she was Madeline’s mamma, Madeline would 
find a difference! Every night, as Mrs. Leach 
stepped into the lift, to be borne aloft to her own 
bower, she said to herself, “He will certainly 
propose to-morrow, ” but alas ! one evening these 
cheering presentiments were crushed. 

The conversation had turned upon Madeline. 
She was a favorite subject with her father. 

“She nursed me well and pulled me through 
that nasty illness last winter. I shall never for- 
get her. One would have said she was accus- 
tomed to nursing — and nursing a man, too, ha, 
ha! I should miss her terribly if she married.” 

“But there is no prospect of that at present, 
is there?” asked his listener softly. 

“No. She is too stand-off. She will ride and 
dance, and talk and laugh, but once a man’s at- 
tentions become marked, she freezes up! I’m 
afraid she is serious when she says she won’t 
marry. There’s Lord Tony hanging after her.” 

“Oh, don’t you think he is very much epris 
with Miss Teale of New York?” 

“Not he!” impatiently. “I dare say he and 
Madeline will settle it some day.” 

“And then how lonely you will be, dear Mr. 
West! /know what it is like.” 

“Yes, I suppose it will be a little dull, unless 
the young people will live with me.” 

^‘Oh!” rather sharply, “they won’t do tkat!’^ 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


343 


they don’t, I shall have to set up another 
housekeeper, to get some one to take pity on me 
and marry again,” and he looked significantly 
into Mrs. Leach’s unabashed eyes. 

Mrs. Leach held her breath. 

‘‘But I should never dream of doing that as 
long as Madeline is with me.” 

“So here was the matter in a nutshell,” said 
his listener to herself, as she grasped her fan 
fiercely and closed her lips. Unless Madeline 
went off, he would never marry. The great 
thing, of course, was to get the girl settled. She 
passed her obvious admirers in lightning review. 
There was actually not one whom she could lay 
her finger upon as a possible son-in-law for the 
little gentleman beside her. She knew several 
who would have gladly proposed to Madeline, 
but Madeline never gave them a chance. Why? 
She would make it her business to discover the 
reason why Miss Madeline was so cold and diffi- 
cile, and to find out luho he was? Mr. Jessup 
knew. Oh, if she only had a chance of exercis- 
ing her fascination on that sdur-looking barris- 
ter ! Madeline had had a note from him recently, 
and she had been on the point of perusing it 
when she had been disturbed: she frequently 
mistook Madeline’s letters for her own, and had 
glanced over a good deal of her correspondence. 
It had proved extremely commonplace, but she 
felt confident that Mr. Jessop’s letter would be 
of absorbing interest. 

Madeline was on the alert. She had taken a 
sincere dislike to this tall, dashing body-guard of 


344 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


hers, with her splendid toilets, shocking mean- 
nesses, her soft manners, and her sharp claws. 
She was aware that she tampered with her let- 
ters. She had surprised her (but not discovered 
herself) ; and seen her carry a piece of recently- 
used blotting-paper and hold it up before the sit- 
ting-room mirror; and she was aware, from 
Josephine, that Mrs. Leach had made an exhaus- 
tive search in her room, under pretense of seek- 
ing a fur collarette. Oh! she was a clumsy spy. 

In March, when the English season was at its 
height, and every hotel and villa was packed, an 
elderly Englishwoman, wearing blue spectacles, 
and a small sandy-haired girl, wearing a tailor- 
made and sailor hat — that seal of British livery 
— toiled up the staircase of the Grand Hotel, fol- 
lowed by their luggage. At the first landing the 
young lady stopped and stared at a very smart 
apparition which had just come out of a sitting- 
room — a pretty, tall girl, dressed with much ele- 
gance in a plum-colored cloth coat and skirt, a 
white cloth waistcoat, white felt hat with purple 
velvet, white gloves, white sunshade. Could it 
be possible that she was Madeline West *:' Made- 
line, the pupil-teacher at Mrs. Harper’s? She 
raised her eyes: yes, it ivas Madeline. She 
would speak. 

“Madeline — West, I am sure. Don’t you re- 
member me at school — Nina Berwick?” 

“Oh, yes, of course,” shaking hands. 

“Growing up makes a difference, doesn’t it?” 
(Growing rich makes a difference, too.) 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


345 


‘‘You are staying here?” said Miss Berwick, 
effusively. 

“Yes, we have been here ever since Christ- 
mas.” 

“How nice! I hope we shall see a great deal 
of one another, and have talks over old times.” 

“Yes,” .assented Madeline, coloring, “that 
will be charming.” 

“You are not married, are you, Madeline?” 

“What has put such an idea into your head?” 
was the misleading reply; Madeline was clever 
at evasion and subterfuge: practice makes per- 
fect. 

“You see we have been living abroad for two 
years, and are rather out of the way of news. I 
am living with my aunt. Lady Fitzsandy. She 
hates England. Well, I’m nearly dead, and 
very dusty and thirsty. Our rooms are on the 
quatrieme etage, and the lift is out of order, I 
hear, so I must toil up. Ta-ta!” and she hur- 
ried away after the porters and her relative. 

Nina Berwick had left school just after the 
breaking up — Madeline recalled this with a sen- 
sation of relief. She came from the borders of 
Scotland, and knew nothing; besides, she was 
always intensel}^- stupid, and never could remem- 
ber anything — names, dates, historical events, 
and even school events went through her sieve- 
like brain. She had not been a particular friend 
of Madeline’s, and had only known her in those 
days when she had fallen from her high estate — 
never as the rich Miss West. 

For her part, Nina Berwick was amazed at 


340 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


her friend’s transformation. She occupied a suite 
on the first floor. She had an English footman, 
a private sitting-room, a Paris frock, and yet she 
was not married! The Misses Berwick were 
well-born but poor; their aunt could not afford 
them the delights of a London season. She car- 
ried them abroad, where they bad never heard 
of Madeline’s social successes. Lady Fitzsandy 
roved about the Continent, from one gay center 
to another, and was extremely anxious to get her 
nieces settled — especially Luc}", who was plain 
and twenty-eight. 

Lady Fitzsandy gladly foregathered with Mr. 
West’s pleasant party. They always joined 
forces after dinner in the hall, and took coffee 
together. And her ladyship was specially 
charmed with Mrs. Leach, Miss West’s chap- 
eron, who was so sweet and so handsome — she 
was connected, too, with her own cousins, the 
Horse- Leaches — and seemed so pleased and in- 
terested to hear that Nina had been at school 
with Miss West. 

“The dear girls,” as she pointed out the pair 
sitting side by side on a distant divan, “were go- 
ing over old times three years ago, and talking 
so happily together.” This is what they were 
saying, and wdiat Mrs. Leach wvnild have given 
her best ring to hear: 

“And so your father came home very wealthy, 
Maddie? And you live in London, and have had 
two seasons, and go everywhere — and know 
everybody?” 

‘‘Oh, 1 don’t know about that.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


M7 


‘‘Well, of course, you have hosts of admirers.” 

“I don’t know about that either!” 

“Nonsense, I’m sure you have had hundreds. 
What was the name of that gentleman at school?” 

“Gentleman at school — there were no gentle- 
men — at school . ” 

“Now don’t be silly! He was the friend of 
some people that used to come to the breaking- 
up. He danced with you, ^ind Miss Selina was 
wild. I’m sure you must remember him.” 

“I don’t want, as you may easily imagine, to 
remember anything about school^ except,” pick- 
ing herself up, “some of my schoolfellows.” 

“Oh, now, let me see, I’ve a shocking mem- 
ory for names. I think his name began with N, 
or was there an N in it?” 

“There was nothing in it — will that answer 
as well? There is to be a big ball here to-mor- 
row j you are just in time.” 

“In the hotel?” 

“Yes; it will be a capital dance.” 

“But I know no men.” 

“I know any number, and I will get you part- 
ners,” said Madeline, recklessly. 

And Madeline kept her word, to the intense 
enjoyment of Miss Berwick, who, thanks to her 
schoolfellow, had quite a delightful plurality of 
cavaliers. It seemed so strange to Nina Berwick 
to see Madeline West, the shabby drudge whom 
she had pitied at school, now surrounded with 
every luxury and crowds of smart acquaintances, 
with a carriage and servants at her orders, and 
all, the best partis at her feet. 


348 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


She was extremely good-natured, and did her 
utmost to give this rather plain, dull little spin- 
ster a good time. She got up picnics and golf 
tournaments. She took her for long drives and 
pleasant expeditions. 

One afternoon Miss Berwick’s grandmamma 
and Mrs. Leach remained at home, had tea 
together^ and talked Miss West over in her own 
sitting-room. Lady.Fitzsandy liked Miss West, 
and sang her praises in a mild key; ditto Mrs. 
Leach, in a yet louder strain, with one occa- 
sional piercing high note —that note a “but.” 
“But she is wildly extravagant; but she is 
wonderful, considering her antecedents; but 
she cannot live without excitement; but she 
is uncertain in her friendships.” 

But Lady Fitzsandy was stanch, and said, “I 
must say that, as far as I can judge, Miss West 
is true to old friends. She is very much at- 
tached to Nina.” 

Mrs. Leach, on her own part, professed a 
rival attachment for Miss Berwick, gave her 
autographs — which she was collecting— also a 
box of pralines, and took her arm round the 
gardens once, treated her to coffee at the Casi- 
no, and there pumped her to the best of her 
ability. 

“And so Madeline was only a pupil-teacher 
when you were at school, you tell me, dear?” 

“Yes; I was there fourteen months, for finish- 
ing. I was among the elders, and she. had 
charge of the small fry; I did not come across 
her at classes’ or in school hours, but I used to 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


849 


meet her in passages, and in the boot-room, and 
sometimes we waltzed together on half-holidays. 
I always liked Maddie.” 

‘‘And you left; before her?’’ 

“Yes; I left last Christmas three years, after 
the breaking-up dance. I recollect Maddie 
played, to save the old skinflints a guinea. But 
the end o£ the evening she danced with a man 
several times, and Miss Selina was furions; I 
think he admired Madeline, and that was her 
reason.” 

“And what was his name, darling?” 

“I really cannot remember. I asked Made- 
line about him, and she rather snubbed me; but 
it was something beginning with an N, I 
think.” 

Oh, what a tiresome, stupid creature! “You 
cannot recollect, darling?” 

“No; except that there was an N in his name! 
1 am sure of that,” 

“And so Madeline remained on for a year; 
and did you never hear anything more of the 
school after you left?” 

“Yes; let me see, I did hear something, I may 
have dreamed it, that^some one was expelled.” 

“Expelled!” with a slight start. “Dear me, 
how shocking!” 

“I cannot recollect, but I am sure it was not 
Madeline. She Avas not that sort of girl; and I 
may have read it in a book. I get so mixed 
between what I have heard and what I have 
read about; but, I am awfully absent and 
d^’eamy.” 


350 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘Have you kep up a correspondence with 
any of your schoolfellows?” 

“Oh, no! I hate letter- writing; and I detested 
school. But I always liked Maddie West. She 
was so pretty to look at, so pleasant to talk to, 
so good-natured. And she is not a bit changed. 
She is a dear.” 

“There never was any — you never heard of 
her getting into any scrape at school, did you?” 

“Oh, no; what a funny idea — a scrape! Why, 
Maddie was as strict about the rules as the 
Harpies themselves ! ” 

“And this gentleman that admired her?” 

“Oh, it was only at our dances, the breakings- 
up; he never gave her a second thought.” 

So Mrs. Leach had wasted her blandishments, 
her time and her money all for nothing on this 
half-witted, tow-headed girl. When she real- 
ized the fact, she rose rather abrupt!}^ — looking 
surprisingly sour, paid at the comptoi7\ and led 
the way back to the promenade in somewhat 
gloomy silence. 

The Berwicks went on to Pan a few days 
later, and were lost sight of once more, as is 
the usual way with these wandering birds of 
passage. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


351 


CHAPTER XXXVI 

TO MEET THE SHAH-DA-SHAH 

Mr. West returned home early in the season, 
and inaugurated his arrival with new horses, 
new liveries, new footmen, and gave a series of 
most recherche dinners. He would have bidden 
Mr. Wynne to one of these banquets, for the 
old gentleman had a tenacious memory (espe- 
cially for things that his daughter expressly 
wished he would forget), but she quietly turned 
the subject; and did not encourage the idea of 
entertaining her husband under her unsuspicious 
parent’s roof. 

“But he belongs to my club. The Foolscap. I 
see him there now and then, and he seems a 
popular chap, and to know every one. 1 heard 
Fotherham — Lord Fotherham — pressing him to 
spend a couple of da3^s with him up the river, 
and they say his articles and writings are quite 
popular.” 

“Oh, I don’t think literary people are very 
interesting; 3^011 have always to get uj) all their 
works, and be able to stand a stiff examination 
in them, if you want to invite them here. Did 
3^ou^see the failure of a great bank in Australia 


352 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


— it was among the telegrams in the “Echo” 
this evening?” she added artfully. 

“No. Bless my soul! what bank? Where is 
the paper?” in great excitement. And Mr. 
West’s mind vvas hurried away into another 
channel, and Mr. Wynne’s invitation-card was 
not dispatched. 

Madeline found time to pay many stealthy 
visits to Harry, who was really a beautiful child, 
of whom even the most indiiferent mother might 
well feel proud. He could talk and walk so 
nicely, and was such a pretty endearing little 
fellow, that her visits, from being spasmodic and 
irregular, became of weekly occurrence. 

Impunity had emboldened her, and every 
Saturday morning, when her father imagined 
her to be shopping, or in the park — found her in 
Mrs. Holt's old-fashioned garden, walking and 
playing between high hollyhocks, sunflowers, 
and lavender bushes, with a fair-haired little 
boy. What would Mr. West have said had he 
seen his lovely daughter running round and 
round, and up and down the gravel path, driven 
by two knotted reins, and a small flerce driver, 
wielding a long whip with a whistle at the end 
of it? 

Mr. and Mrs. Wynne never met, for her days, 
as we have seen, were Saturdays, and his were 
invariably Sundays. 

Low fever was prevalent that sultry month of 
Juno, also typhoid and diphtheria. The latter 
fastened its grim clutch on little Harry. It was 
a case which developed rapidly. The child had 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


353 


been hot and heavy, and not his usual bright 
talkative self, when his mother saw him on 
Saturday. Mrs. Holt attributed this entirely 
to the oppressive weather, and to thunder in the 
air. On Sunday his father, justly alarmed, sum- 
moned the local doctor, who at once pronounced 
that the little patient was a victim to diphtheria. 

On Monday Madeline was sent for. The child 
was a shade better, though still very ill. He lay 
in his cot and gazed at her with large distended 
eyes — and gasped out “Mummy — mummy,’’ as 
he held out his little hot hands. 

She remained all day, for it so happened that 
her father was out of town; but, under any cir- 
cumstances, she assured herself, she would have 
stayed all the same; and when she finally de- 
parted, late in the evening, the patient was sleep- 
ing, and the doctor’s opinion more encouraging. 
He assured her that she need not alarm herself, 
as he walked down with her to where the fly 
stood waiting in the lane. 

“You really need not be uneasy, my dear 
madam,” .he said impressively, “unless things 
take a most unexpected turn, and then, of course, 
we will let you know. He is a fine healthy child, 
and admirably nursed by yonder good woman,” 
nodding toward the house. 

“She is indeed a good woman!” returned 
Madeline fervently, as her thoughts recalled 
Mrs. Holt’s unwearying care and night and 
day attendance on her nursling. She even 
seemed to grudge her permission to feed him, 
or to moisten his lips. 


^54 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


‘‘I’m afraid I can’t come to-morrow, unless I 
am really needed,” said Madeline plaintively. 
“You say there is no danger now — you ar 
sure? I may rely on you to tell me?” 

“Yes; there is none whatever at present.” 

“Because if there were, I should remain al 
night.” 

“There is no occasion, especially if you are 
urgently needed elsewhere,” rejoined the doctor, 
who nevertheless thought it rather strange that 
this pretty, tearful, agitated young lady should 
not find it the most natural thing to remain with 
her sick child — her only child. 

Promising that she should have early news 
the next morning by telegraph, he handed her 
into the fly, and bowed her off the scene, just 
as another inquiring relative — equally near and 
equally anxious — came hurrying up to him; in 
fact, the child’s father, who had taken the short 
cut from the station by the path across the fields. 

“Most peculiar state of affairs,” thought the 
doctor to himself; “there must be a screw loose 
somewhere. The child’s parents apparently 
well-off, fashionable people, living apart and 
visiting the farm separately, and never allud- 
ing to one another. What did it mean?” 

Mrs, Holt promptly set the matter before him 
in three words. It meant that “they had quar- 
reled.” Mr. Wynne remained at the farm- 
house all night, sharing Mrs. Holt’s vigil and 
watching every turn, every movement, every 
breath of the little sleeper as anxiously as she 
did herself. In the morning there was no posi- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


355 


tive change one way or another. The pendulum 
of little Harry's existence seemed to have paused 
T)r a time before it made that one vital move- 
nent in the direction of either life or death. 

A message was dispatched to Miss West in 
^hese laconic words — Slept pretty well; much 
the same.” And Madeline, relieved in her mind, 
entered on the work of a long and toilsome day. 
In short, she continued the grand preparations 
for a ball that they were giving that evening. 
It was to be the ball of the season. 

Invitations had been out for four weeks. A 
native Indian prince, and some of the lesser 
Royalties had signified their intention of being 
present. Mr. West looked upon the festivity as 
the supreme occasion of his life, the summit of 
his ambition — fully and flawlessly attained — and 
he was happy. Only, of course, there is a thorn 
in every rose; in this rose there were two thorns. 
One— and a very sharp one — the disquieting ru- 
mors of financial affairs in Australia, where. a 
great part of his huge income was invested; and 
the other and lesser thorn — the announcement of 
Lord Tony's engagement to an old acquaintance 
and partner, Miss Pamela Pace. 

And so his dream of calling Lord Tony by his 
Christian name, as his son-in law, was at an 
end. However, he was resolved to make the 
most of the delightful present, and to give an 
entertainment, the fame of which should ring 
from one end of London to the other. He fully 
carried out his motto, “money no object.” The 
floral decorations alone for hall, staircase, ball- 


356 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


rooms, and supper table came to the pretty penny 
of two thousand pounds. The favorite band of 
the season was, of course, in attendance. As to 
the supper, it was to be a banquet, the menu of 
which would make an epicure green with envy; 
and Madeline’s dress was to come direct from 
Doucet, and had been specially designed for the 
occasion by Mr. West’s commands. 

With all these splendid preparations in view, 
it will be easily understood that it was with some 
trepidation that Madeline asked her father to 
postpone the ball. 

She made her request very timidly, with fail- 
ing heart and faltering lips — indeed, the end of 
her sentence died away in the air when she be- 
held the terrible expression on her parent’s face. 

‘‘Put off the ball !” he roared; “are you mad? 
You must have a shingle short. Put off the 
swells, after all the work I’ve had to get them! 
Put off” — he acutally choked over the words — 
“the Shah-da-shah, when you know there’s not 
another day in the season ! Every night is 
taken. Why, what do you mean? What’s 
your reason?” he almost screamed. 

“I — I thought the intense heat — I fancied As- 
cot — races happening to-morrow, and I’m not 
feeling very — well,” she faltered lamely. 

“Oh, bosh ! You look as fit as possible. Your 
reasons are no reasons. I suppose you are cut 
up about Tony — though why you should be is 
more than I can say — seeing that you refused 
him twice.” ^ 

“On the contrary, I’m delighted at his en- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


357 


gagement. Pamela Pace is, as you know, a 
friend of mine. ‘ He promised to bring her to the 
dance without fail.” 

‘‘And the dance comes off on Wednesday with- 
out fail. 

The suggestion of its postponement had been 
made on Monday — after her return from the 
farm. 

“And remember, Madeline, that I shall expect 
you to stir yourself — look after the decorations, 
have an eye to the supper tables, and see that 
the men do the floors properly, and that there 
are no old waltzes in the programme. You will 
have your woik cut out, and I mine. It will be 
the busiest day in your life — one to talk of and 
look back on when you are a grandmother. It’s 
not a common event to entertain the Shah-da- 
shah!” As he said this he jumped up and be- 
gan to pace the room, rubbing his hands in an 
ecstasy of anticipation. 

On the morning of the ball Mr. West was 
early about, arranging, ordering, superintend- 
ing, and sending telegrams. 

“Here’s a pile,” he suddenly exclaimed at 
breakfast time, indicating a heap of letters. “I 
got these all yesterday from people asking for 
invitations — invitations for themselves, cousins, 
aunts, and so on, from folk who wouldn’t know 
us last season; but it’s my turn now! I’ll have 
none of them. Whatever else the ball will be, 
it shall be select,” waving his arm with a gest- 
ure that was ludicrous in its pomposity. “By 
the way, that fellow Wynne — he belongs to my 


358 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


club, you know — and besides that, Bagge & 
Keepe have given him a brief* in a case I’m 
much concerned in. You remember him, eh?” 

“Yes, I remember Mr. Wynne,” she answered 
rather stiffly. 

“ Well, I met him in the street yesterday morn- 
ing, and asked him for to-morrow. He’s a pre- 
sentable-looking sort of chap,” nodding rather 
apologetically at his daughter; “but, would you 
believe it, he would not come; though I told him 
it would be something out of the common. ' And 
fancy his reason” — pausing dramatically — the 
little man was still pacing the room — “you will 
never guess; you will be as astounded as I was. 
He said his child was ill.” 

Madeline never raised her eyes, but sat with 
them fixed upon a certain pattern on the carpet, 
not looking particularly interested, merely in- 
different, white and rigid. 

“He appeared quite in a fright,” proceeded 
Mr. West, volubly, “and very much worried and 
put out. He had a case on in court, and wanted 
to get away. I had no idea that he was a mar- 
ried man; had you?” 

Before Mr. Wynne’s wife’s dry lips could frame 
an appropriate answ^er to this awkward question, 
a footman entered, with another bundle of notes 
on a salver, and thus Mr. West’s attention was 
diverted from his unhappy daughter. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


359 


CHAPTER XXXVII 
‘‘gone off in her white shoes’’ 

In due time all preparations were completed 
for the reception of Mr. and Miss West’s guests. 
The grand staircase was lined with palm-trees 
and immense tropical ferns, and lights were cun- 
ningly arranged amid the dusky foliage; a foun- 
tain of scent played at the head of this splendid 
and unique approach, and here stood the host 
and hostess side by side. 

Mr. West was adorned in a plain e\^ening suit 
— (would, oh! would that he might have decked 
himself with chains and orders!) — and a peren- 
nial smile. His daughter was arrayed in a 
French gown of white satin and white chiffon, 
powdered with silver. Diamonds shone on her 
bodice, her neck, and in her hair,. She required 
no such adjuncts to set off her appearance, but 
there they were! Although tired and fagged, 
she looked as superior to most of her lady guests 
— who were chiefly of average every-day pretti- 
ness — as a Eucharist lily to a single dahlia. Her 
color and eyes were exceptionally bright, for she 
was flushed by fatigue, excitement, and anxiety. 


360 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


ISTo news was good news, she told herself. 
The last telegram was reassuring. There was 
no need to fret and worry. Half the miseries in 
the world are those that have never happened ! 
So she cast doubt and care behind her as she 
took her place in the state quadrille and prepared 
to abandon herself to the occasion. No one in 
their senses would suspect for a moment that 
the beautiful, brilliant Miss West had a care on 
her mind, much less that her heart was aching 
with suspense with regard to her sick child. 

She indeed lulled her fears to sleep, and played 
the part of hostess to perfection — not dancing 
overmuch, as became the lady of the house, till 
quite late in the evening, or rather early in the 
morning, and having a word — the right word — 
and a smile for everybody. 

The ball went olf without a single drawback. 
The most fastidious young men avowed they had 
been “well done”; the most critical chaperones 
could detect no shortcomings in manners, part- 
ners, or refreshments. People enjoyed them- 
selves; there was no after-supper exodus; the 
men and maidens found that they were not 
bored, and changed their minds about “going 
on.” 

Yes, distinguished guests remained unusually 
late. The supper, floor, and arrangements were 
faultless; and Mr. West was informed by one or 
two important folk “that such an entertainment 
reminded them of the Arabian Nights for its 
magnificence. It was a ball of balls.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


361 


The little speculator was almost beside himself 
with pride and self-satisfaction. Truly those 
many checks that had to be di'awn were alread}^ 
redeemed. He must, of course, pay for his 
whistle; but it was a pretty whistle, and worth 
its price. 

He unfolded his feelings to his daughter as 
they stood alone in the big ballroom, after the 
last guest had taken leave and the carriages were 
rapidly rolling from the door. His sharp little 
eyes shone, his mouth twitched, his hand actu- 
ally shook, not with champagne, but triumph. 

‘‘You did it splendidly, Maddie. If you were 
a duchess you could not have hit it off better ! I 
often wonder where you get your manners and 
air and way of saying things. Your mother was 
something of the same style, too. She had real 
blue blood in her veins; but she was not so 
sparkling as you are, though very vivacious. I 
must say those Miss Harpers did their duty by 
you. Well,” looking round, “it’s all over. 
They are putting out the candles, and there’s 
broad daylight outside. It’s been a success — a 
triumph! I wish some of my old chumS had 
seen it. Bless me, how they would stare! A 
trifle better than Colonial dances. And wouldn’t 
they like to get hold of this in the Sydney ‘Bul- 
letin.’ There’s a personal paper for you! I 
feel a bit giddy. I expect I shall be knocked up 
to-morrow — I mean to-day. Don’t you rise be- 
fore dinner-time. There’s the sun streaming in. 
Get away to your bed!” 

Madeline had listened to this paean of tri- 


362 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


umphant complacency without any remark, 
merely opening her mouth to yawn, and yawn, 
and yawn. She was very tired; and now that 
tile stir and whirl and excitement was over, felt 
ready to collapse from sheer fatigue. She, there- 
fore, readily obeyed her parent’s behest, and; 
kissing him on his wrinkled cheek, walked off 
to her own room. 

Josephine, half asleep, was sitting up for her, 
the wax candles were guttering in their sockets, 
the electric light was struggling at the shutters 
with the sun. 

“Oh, mademoiselle!” said the maid, rubbing 
her eyes, “I’ve been asleep, I do believe. I’ve 
waited to unlace your dress, though you said I 
need not ; but I know you could never do it your- 
self,” beginning her task at once, while her 
equally sleepy mistress stood before the mirror 
and slowly removed her gloves, bangles, and 
diamonds, and yawned at her own reflection. 

“It was splendid, mademoiselle. Jamais — pas 
meme a Paris — did I see such a fete! I saw it 
well from a place behind the band. What 
crowds, what toilets! but mademoiselle svas the 
most charmante of all. Ahl there is nothing 
like a French dressmaker — and a good figure, 
bien entendu. There were some costumes that 
were ravishing in the ladies’ room. I helped. I 
saw them.” 

“It went off well, I think, Josephine, and 
papa is pleased; but I am glad that it is over,” 
said her mistress, wearily. “Mind you don’t let me 
sleep later than twelve o’clock on any account.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


B63 


‘‘Twelve o’clock! and it is now six!” cried 
Josephine, in a tone of horror. “Mademoiselle, 
you will be knocked up — you — ” 

“Oh! ivliat this?” interrupted her mistress 
in a strange voice, snatching up a telegram that 
lay upon a table, its tan colored envelope as yet 
intact, and which had hitherto been concealed by 
a silver-backed hand-glass, as if it were of no 
importance. 

“Oh, I forgot! I fell asleep, you see. It 
came for you at eleven o’clock last night, just as 
the company were arriving, and I could not dis- 
turb you. I hope it is of no consequence.” 

But evidently it was of great consequence, for 
the young lady was reading it with a drawn, 
ghastly countenance, and her hand holding the 
message shook so much that the paper rattled as 
if in a breeze of wind. 

And this is what she was reading with strained 
eyes. “Mrs. Holt to Miss West, 9:30. — Come 
immediately; there is a change.” And this was 
sent eight hours ago. 

“Josephine,” she said, with a look that ap- 
palled the little Frenchwoman, “why did you not 
give me this? It is a matter of life and death. If — 
if,” with a queer catch in her breath, “lam too late, 
I shall never, never, never forgive you ! Here” — 
with a gesture of frenzy, tearing off her dress — 
“take away this rag and these hateful things,” 
dragging the tiara out of her hair and flinging it 
passionately on the floor, “for which I have sold 
myself. Get me a common gown, woman. 
Quick, quick ! and don’t stand looking like a fool !” 


364 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Josephine had indeed been looking on as if she 
was petrified, and asking herself if her mistress 
had not suddenly gone stark-staring mad? Me- 
chanically she picked up the despised ball-dress 
and brought out a morning cotton, which Made- 
line wrested from her hands and flung' over her 
head, saying: 

“Send for a hansom — fly — flj^!” 

And thus exhorted and catching a spark of the 
other’s excitement, she ran out of the room and 
hurriedly dispatched a heavy -eyed and amazed 
footman for the cab, with many lively and im- 
pressive gesticulations. 

When she returned she found that Madeline 
had already fastened her dress, flung on a cape 
and the first hat she could find, and, with a purse 
in one hand and her gloves in another, was act- 
ually ready. So was the hansom, for one had 
been found outside, still lingering and hoping for 
a fare. Madeline did not delay a second. She 
ran downstairs between the fading lights, the 
Tropical palms, the withering flowers, which had 
had their one little day, and it was over. Down 
she fled along the red-cloth carpetings, under the 
gay awnings, and sprang into the vehicle. 

Josephine, who hurried after her, was just in 
time to see her dash from the door. 

“Grand ciel!” she ejaculated to two amazed 
men-servants, who now stood beside her, looking 
very limp in the bright summer morning. “Did 
any one ever see the like of that? She has gone 
away in her white satin ball slippers.’’ 

“What’s up? What’s the matter?” de- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


365 


manded one of her companions authoritatively. 
“What’s the meaning of Miss West running out 
of the house as if she was going for a fire-engine 
or the police? Is she mad?” 

“I can’t tell you. It was something that she 
heard by telegram. Some one is ill. She talked 
of life or death ; she is mad with fear of some- 
thing. Oh, you should have seen her eyes ! She 
looked, when she opened the paper, awful! I 
thought she would have struck me because I 
kept it back.” 

“Anyhow, whatever it is, she could not have 
gone before,” said the first footman, with solemn 
importance. “But what the devil can it be?” 
he added, as he stroked his chin reflectively. 

This was precisely the question upon which no 
one could throw the least glimmer of light; and, 
leaving the three servants to their speculations, 
we follow Madeline down to the Holt. She 
caught an early train. She was equally lucky 
in getting a fly at the station (by bribing heavily) 
and implored the driver to gallop the whole way. 
She arrived at the farm at eight o’clock, and 
rushed up the garden and burst into the kitchen 
white and breathless. But she was too late. 
The truth came home to her with an agonizing 
pang. She felt as if a dagger had been thrust 
into her heart, for there at the table sat Mrs. 
Holt, her elbows resting on it, her apron thrown 
over her head. She was sobbing long, long gasp- 
ing sobs, and looked the picture of g^rief. 

Madeline shook as if seized with a sudden pals}^ 
as she stood in the doorway. Her lips refused 


366 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


to move or form a sound; her heart was beating 
in her very throat, and would assuredly choke 
her. She could not have asked a question if her 
life depended on it. 

Mrs. Holt, hearing steps, threw down her 
apron and confronted her. 

“Ay, I thought it might be you !’’ she ejacu- 
lated in a husky voice. “Well, it's all over! 
.... He died, j)Oor darling, at daybreak, in 
these arms!’’ holding out those two hard-work- 
ing extremities to theil’ fullest extent, with a 
gesture that spoke volumes. 

“I will not believe it; it is not true; it — it is 
impossible!” broke in the wretched girl. “The 
doctor said that there was no danger. Oh, Mrs. 
Holt, for God’s sake, I implore you to tell me 
that you are only frightening me! You think 
1 have not been a good mother, that I want a 
lesson, that — that — I will see for myself,” hurry- 
ing across the kitchen and opening a well-known 
door. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


367 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 

DEATH AND SICKNESS 

Alas ! what was this that she beheld, and that 
turned every vein in her body to ice? It was 
death for the first tirne. There before her, in the 
small cot, lay a little still figure, with closed eyes 
and folded hands, a lily between them ; the bed 
around it — yes, it was now it — already strewn 
with white flowers, on which the morning dew 
still lingered. AVho strews white flowers on the 
living? Yes, Harry was dead! There was no 
look of suffering now on the little brow; he 
seemed as if he was sleeping; his soft fair curls 
fell naturally over his forehead; his long dark 
lashes swept his cheek. He might be asleep! 
But why was he so still? No breath, no gentle 
rising and falling disturb his tiny crossed hands, 
so lately full of life and mischief — and now! 

With a low cry Madeline fell upon her knees 
beside the child, and laid her lips on his. How 
cold they were! But no, he could not be dead! 

Harry, Harry,” she whispered. “Harry, I 
have come. Open your eyes, darling, for me, 
only one moment, and look at me, or J shall go 
madr^ 


368 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


“So you have come,” said a voice close to her, 
and starting round she saw Laurence, pale and 
haggard from a long vigil, and stern as an aveng- 
ing angel. “It was hardly worth while now; 
there is nothing to need your care any longer. 
Poor, little child! he is gone. He wanted you; 
he called as long as he could articulate for his 
‘mummy’ —his ‘pretty, pretty mummy.’ ” Here 
his faltering voice broke, and he paused for a 
second, then continued in a sudden burst of in- 
dignation. “And while he was dying, his 
mother was dancing!” glancing as he spoke at 
her visible and incriminating white satin shoes. 

“I only got the telegram this morning at six 
o’clock,” returned Madeline, with awful calm- 
ness. The full reality had not come home to her 
yet. 

“You were smnmoned when the child was 
first taken ill. Yes, I know you had a great 
social part to play — that you dared not be 
absent, that you dared not tell your father that 
another, the holiest, nearest, dearest of claims, 
appealed to you,” pointing to the child. “You 
have sacrificed us, you have sacrificed all, to 
your Moloch — money. But it is not fitting that 
I should reproach you here; your conscience — 
and surely you are not totally hardened — wiU 
tell you far sadder, sterner truths than any 
human lips.” She stood gazing at him vacantly, 
holding the brass bar at the head of the bed in 
both hands. “It may be some poor consolation 
to you tp know that, although your presence 
would have been a comfort, nothing could have 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


369 


saved him. From the time the change set in 
last ev^ening, the doctor pronounced the case 
hopeless.'’ 

Madeline still stood and looked at the speaker 
as if she were in a trance, and he, although he 
spoke with a certain sort of deliberation, and as 
if he was addressing one whose mind found it 
difficult to grasp a subject, surveyed her with a 
pale, set face, and liis eyes shone like a flame. 

“There is no occasion for you to remain; I 
will make all arrangements. The tie between us 
is severed : you and I are as dead to one another 
as the child is to us both. We have nothing now 
in common but a grave.” His grief and indig- 
nation left no room for pity. 

Incidents which take some time to describe 
are occasionally almost instantaneous in action. 
It was barely five minutes since Madeline had 
entered the farmhouse aind become aware of 
her loss, and now she was looking with stony 
eyes upon the destruction of everything that in 
her inmost soul she valued. Her child had 
wound himself into her heart. He was dead; 
he had died in a stranger’s arms, neglected by 
his own mother. Laurence was also lost to her 
forever ! 

“Have you nothing to say?” he asked at last, 
as she still remained silent and immovable. 

She clutched the brass rail fiercely in her 
grasp; there was a desperate expression in her 
face. She looked like some guilty, undefended 
prisoner, standing at the bar of judgment. 

‘'Have you no feeling, no words — nothing?” 


370 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Still she stared at him wildly — speechless. He 
scrutinized her sharply. Her lips were parched 
and open. There was acute suffering in her 
pallid face and dazed, dilated eyes And, be- 
fore he had time to realize what was about to 
happen, she had fallen in a dead faint. 

Mrs. Holt was hastily summoned, and she was 
laid upon Mrs. Holt’s spare bed, while burned 
feathers were applied to her ^nostrils ; her hands 
were violently rubbed, and every old-fashioned 
remedy was exhausted. The farmer’s wife 
could scarcely contain her resentment against 
this young woman, who had not deserved to be 
the mother of her dead darling, especially as 
she took notice of the diamonds still glittering 
in her ears, and of her white silk stockings and 
satin shoes. These latter items outraged her 
sense of propriety even more than Madeline’s 
absence the previous night. She lifted up one of 
these dainty slippers from where it had fallen on 
the floor, as its owner was being carried to bed, 
and surveyed it indignantly. 

‘Ht’s danced a good lot, this ’ere shoe! Look 
at the sole. Look at the satin, there; it’s 
frayed, and it was new last night. I’ll be bound! 
It’s a pretty little foot, though; but you need 
not fear for her, Mr. Wynne, It’s not grief as 
ails her as much as you think. She never was 
one as had much feeling — it’s just dancing! 
She’s been on the floor the whole night, and she 
is just about done.” And, tossing the miserable 
tell tale shoe indignautly to one side, she added, 
‘Ht’s dancing— not grief!” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


371 


When Madeline recovered consciousness she 
could not at first remember where she was, but 
gradually the dreadful truth dawned upon her 
mind; yet, strange to say, she never shed one 
single tear. 

‘"ISTo; not one tear, as I live by bread,” Mrs. . 
Holt reported truthfully, “Her face was as 
dry as a flint. Did ever any one know the like?” 
The worthy woman, who had wept copiously 
herself, and whose eyes and nose testified to the 
fact for days, did not know, had never yet seen 
“the grief too deep for tears.” 

Madeline went — her husband having returned 
to town — and locked herself into the room, and 
sat alone with the little corpse. Her sorrow 
was stony-eyed and hard; her grief the worst of 
grief — the loss of a child. And it was edged 
with what gave it a searching and agonizing 
point — remorse. Oh, that she might have him 
back — half her life for half a day — to look in his 
eyes, to whisper in his ears! But those pretty 
brown eyes were closed forever; that little 
waxen ear would never more listen to a human 
voice. Surely she was the most unhappy woman 
who ever walked the earth, for to her w^as de- 
nied the comfort of atonement! She had been 
weak, wicked, unnatural; she had been a neg- 
lectful mother to her poor little son. And now, 
that she was yearning to be all that a mother 
should, now that she would verily give her life 
for his, it was too late! 

So long did she remain still and silent, so long 
was' there no sound, not even of sobs, in that 


372 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


darkened room, that Mrs. Holt became alarmed; 
and toward sundown came authoritatively to 
the door with loud knocks and a cup of tea. 

fly had arrived to take her back to the 
station. Mr. Wynn had ordered it, and she must 
come out and have a cup of tea «and go. She 
would do no good to any one by making herself 
ill.’' 

And, by reason of her importunities, Mrs. 
Holt prevailed. The door was thrown back, 
and Mrs. Wynne came out with a face that — 
the farmer’s wife subsequently described — fairly 
frightened her. She had to stand over her and 
make her drink the tea, and had all the work in 
the world to prevail on her and coax her to go 
back to town. No, she would remain; she was 
determined to remain. 

However, Mrs. Holt had a still more robust^ 
will, and gradually coaxed her guest into return- 
ing home for just that one night. Anyway, she 
must go and fetch her clothes. She would be 
coming for the funeral. Mr. Wynne had said 
something about Friday. She could return. 
Best go now, 

‘‘Yes,” answered Madeline, leaning against 
the doorway from pure physical weakness, and 
speaking in a curious, husky voice. “I am go- 
ing to tell my father all, and I shall return to- 
morrow.” 

And then she went reluctantly down the walk, 
looking back over and over again at a certain 
window with a drawn blind, still wearing her 
white shoes — Mrs. Holt’s were three sizes too 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


373 


large for her — and, still without one single tear, 
she got into the fly and was driven away. 

When she returned to Belgrave Square — hag- 
gard, distraught, and ghastly in color — she found 
that Mr. West had kept his room the whole day; 
that the house had returned to its normal con- 
dition, the palms and awnings were gone, and 
“dinner was laid in the library.” Thus she was 
blandly informed by the butler as she passed up- 
stairs, the butler being far too gentlemanly a 
person to even hint his amazement at her appear- 
ance by look or tone. 

But Miss West did not dine in the library. 
She went to bed, which she never left for six 
•long weeks. Diphtheria developed itself. The 
drains of 365, Belgrave Square, were unjustly 
blamed. Miss West had got a chill the night of 
the dance, and it was known in society that for 
many, many da 3 ^s the charming hostess lay be- 
tween life and death. 

Josephine, a romantic and imaginative Gaul, 
liad long believed that her mistress had a secret 
love affair. She drew her own inferences; she 
sympathized, and she commanded the household 
to keep silence respecting Miss West’s mysterious 
errand. The morning after the ball, when diph- 
theria developed, the house was rapidly emptied. 
Even Josephine fled, and left her lady in the 
hands of trained nurses. Mr. West and a few 
domestics stuck to their posts, the infected quar- 
ter being rigorously isolated by means of sheets 
dipped in disinfectant fluid. 

Few of the gay guests ventured to leave cards 


374 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


at the house. Diphtheria is an awful scourge, 
and this is the age of microbes. In old times 
ignorance was bliss. 

Many kind inquiries and anxious messages 
came by letter, and not a few men questioned 
Mr. West at his club. His daughter was such 
a lovely creature, so full of vitality, she enjoyed 
every moment of her life. Oh, it would be a 
thousand pities if she were to die! 

Strange as it seemed, there was no more regu- 
lar inquirer than Mr. Wynne. On the day when 
Madeline was at her worst, when three grave 
doctors consulted together in her boudoir, Mr. 
Wynne actually came to the house; and later he 
appeared to be continually in the club — which 
was more or less empty. The season was past. 
People were on the wing for the seaside or the 
moors; but Mr. Wynne still lingered on in town. 
Mr. West was constantly knocking up against 
him in the club hall or reading-room, and the 
more he saw of him the better he liked him^ He 
was always so sympathetic somehow about Made- 
line, although he had scarcely known her, and 
took a sincere interest in hearing what the doc- 
tors said, and how they could not understand 
how or where she had caught the infection. 
There was not a single case of dijihtheria in 
their neighborhood. 

And his daughter’s dangerous illness was not 
the little man’s only anxiety. Part of his great 
fortune was also in a very dangerous condition. 
The panic in Australia was spreading, and 
though he bore a stout heart and refused to sell 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


375 


— indeed, it was impossible to dispose of much of 
his stock — yet he never knew the hour or day 
when he might not find himself a comparatively 
poor man. As soon as Madeline was better and 
fit to move he would go to Sydney, and look 
after his own affairs. Meanwhile he began to 
retrench; he withdrew his commission for the 
lease of a moor, for a diamond and emerald 
parure; he put down all his horses but two; 
and he placed the Belgrave mansion on the 
market. The house was too large to be com- 
fortable, and the sanitary arrangements were 
apparently unsafe. 

As soon as the invalid was pronounced fit to 
move she was taken to Brighton, where, there 
being no risk of infection, Mr. and Miss W' est and 
suite were comfortably established in one of the 
best hotels, and at first the invalid made tolerable 
progress toward recovery. By the first of Sep- 
tember she was ^ permitted to go out in a bath- 
chair, or even to take a short drive daily. All 
who saw her agreed that her illness had told 
upon her most terribly. Her color had departed, 
her eyes and cheeks were hollow; her beauty 
was indeed a faded flower — a thing of the past! 


376 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XXXIX 

WHITE FLOWERS 

As soon as practicable Madeline stole a visit to 
Mrs. Holt, Mr. West having much business of 
importance in London. 

“I have been ill,” she gasped, as she tottered 
into the familiar kitchen, “or I would have come 
back long ago.” 

“So you have, I declare. Dear heart alive! 
and aged by years, and just skin and bone. Sit 
down, sit down,” dragging forward a chair and 
feeling for the keys, with a view to a glass of 
wine for Mrs. Wynne, who looked like fainting. 

“No, no. Nevermind; I can’t stay. But tell 
me where it is, Mrs. Holt — where have they 
buried him?” 

“No, no. Now sit you down,” enforcing her 
request with her hand. “Mr. Wynne was think- 
ing of burying him with his own people in Kent; 
but it was too far away, so he is laid in Monks 
Norton; with a lovely stone over him. IVe been 
there,” and then she proceeded to give the un- 
happy mother a minute description of the funeral, 
the cofBii with silver plates, and a full account 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


377 


of the last resting-place, keeping all the while 
an angry and incredulous eye on her visitor’s 
colored dress. 

“You are not in black, I see,” looking at her 
(J )wn new black merino with some complacency. 

“jSTo, Mrs. Holfc; I — I never thought of it, if 
you will believe me. My head was fulbof other 
things, and m}^ heart too sore; but I will wear 
mourning outwardly, as I wear it in my soul, 
and — heart — to the end of my days.” 

“Well, I do wonder as you never thought of 
a bit of black,” sniffed the other, incredulously. 
“ ’Tis mostly the first thing!” 

“Sometimes, I suppose,” responded her visitor 
wearily. “And now, Mrs. Holt, I must go; I 
know that you think badly of me, and I deserve 
it.” 

“Well, ma’am, I can’t say but I Her 

tone was of an intensity that conveyed a far 
greater degree of disapproval than mere words 
could convey. “But my opinion ain’t of no 
value to the likes of yoiL” 

“You were very good to him. You took my 
place; I will not thank you. You do not want 
my thanks. You did all for his own sake and 
for pure love. Oh, Mrs. Holt, if I could only 
live the last two years over again !” 

“There’s nothing like beginning a new leaf, 
ma’am. You have Mr. Wynne still.” 

“Mr. Wynne will never forgive me — never. 
He said so. He said — ” Then her voice failed. 
“Good-by, Mrs.. Holt.” 

“•Ay, I’m coming to the gate with you. I’ll 


3?8 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


tell Tom Holler where to take ye; it’s in or 
about three miles. You’d like a few white 
flowers? The lilies are just a wonder for 
beauty.” 

‘‘No, no, no. I won’t trouble you. I won’t 
take them,” she protested tremulously. 

“Oh, but indeed you must!” Mrs. Holt was 
determined that, as far as lay in her power, Mrs. 
Wynne should respect les convenances, and, 
seizing a knife as they passed, through the 
kitchen, cut quite a sheaf of white lilies, while 
Madeline stood apathetically beside her, as if 
she was a girl in a dream. 

Monks Norton was an old, a very old gray 
country church, thickly surrounded by grave- 
stones — a picturesque place on the side of a hill, 
far away from any habitation, save the clerk’s 
cottage and a pretty old rectory house smothered 
in ivy. 

As Madeline pushed open the heavy lych gate, 
she was aware that she was not the only visitor 
to the churchyard. On a walk some little way 
off stood two smartly dressed girls, whom she 
knew — London acquaintances — and an elderly 
gentleman, with a High Church waistcoat, ap- 
parently the rector. 

They had their backs turned toward her, and 
were talking in a very animated manner. They 
paused for a second as they noticed a tall lady 
turn slowly down a pathway, as if she was look- 
ing for something — for a grave, of course. Then 
resumed their discussion, just where they had 
left it off. 


MAERIED OR SINGLE? 


379 


‘‘It^s too sweet!” said one of the girls raptur- 
ously, “quite a beautiful idea, and you say put 
up recently?” 

“Yes,” assented the rector, who took a per- 
sonal pride in all the nice new tombstones, “only 
last Saturday week. It’s quite a work of art, is 
it not?” 

“Yes,” returned the second lady. “You say 
that it was a child, brought by the father, and 
that he was very much cut up. His name was 
Wynne— one of the Wynnes. It can’t be our 
Mr. Wynne, Laura; he is not married. ” 

“Oh, there are dozens of Wynnes,” replied 
her sister. “And you said it was a sad little 
funeral, did you not. Uncle Fred? “Only the 
father and a friend and two country people. 
The mother—” 

At this moment the girl was aware of some 
one coming behind her — a tall person, who could 
look over her shoulder — some one whose ap- 
proach had not been noticed on the grass ; and, 
turning quickly, she found herself face to face 
with — of all people in the world! — Miss West, 
who was cariying an immense bunch of freshly 
cut lilies.. She gave a little exclamation of sur- 
prise as she put out her hand, saying — 

“Miss West, I’m so charmed to see you. I 
heard you had been so ill. I hope you are bet- 
ter?” 

“Yes, I have been ill,” returned the other 
languidly, wishing most fervently that these gay 
Misses Dancer would go away and leave her alone 
with her dead. 


380 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


They were standing before the very grave she 
was in search of — a white, upright marble cross, 
on the foot of which was written in gilt letters — 

Harry Wynne. 

Died [here followed the date], 

AGED 2 YEARS AND 7 MONTHS. 

‘‘Is it well with the cliild? It is well ! *’ (2 Kings iv. 26). 

“We have just been admiring this pretty tomb- 
stone, Miss West — so uncommon and so appro- 
priate. I have never seen that text before, 
have you?” 

Madeline turned away her eyes, and with won- 
derful self-command said, “No, she never 
had.” 

“I wonder what Wynnes he belonged to. It 
does not say. The head of the Wynnes is very 
poor. The old estate of Rivals AVynne has 
passed out of the family. I saw it last summer. 
It is a lovely old place — about two miles from 
Aunt Jessie’s — delightful for picnics. Such 
woods! But the house is almost a ruin. The 
old chapel and banquet! ng-hall and ladies’ gal- 
lery are roofless. It’s a pity when these old fam- 
ilies go down, is it not, and die out?” 

“Yes, a pity,” she answered mechanically. 

There was, after this, a rather long silence. 
Miss West was not disposed to converse. Oh, 
why could they not go away? and her time was 
so precious! Perhaps they divined something of 
her thoughts; for the sisters looked at one an- 
other — a look that mutually expressed amaze- 
ment at finding the gay Miss West among the 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


381 


tombs of a lonely rural churchyard ; and one of 
them said : 

“Is it not delightful to get into the country? 
I suppose you are staying in the neighborhood 
for the yeomanry ball?” 

Madeline made no reply. Possibly her illness 
had affected her hearing. 

“This old church is considered quite the local 
sight. Our uncle is the rector. If you have 
come to look for any particular grave, we know 
the whole churchyard, and can help you to find 
it with pleasure.” ^ 

This was one of the remarks that Miss Laura 
Dancer subsequently wished she had not made. 

Miss West murmured her thanks, and shook 
her head. And the girls, seeing that she evi- 
dently wished to be by herself — and, after beg- 
ging her with one breath to “come and have tea 
at the rectory” — pranced down to the lych gate 
on their high-heeled shoes, followed more lei- 
surely by the rector. 

And at last Madeline was alone. But how 
could she kneel on the turf and press her lips to 
the cold marble and drop her bitter tears over 
her lost darling with other eyes upon her? How 
could she tell that the windows in yonder rectory 
did not overlook every corner and every grave? 
She laid the lilies on the turf, and stood at the 
foot of the new little mound for half-an-hour, 
kissed the name upon the cross, gathered a few 
blades of grass, and then went away. 

The Misses Dancer, who had a fair share of 
their mother Eve’s curiosity, had been vainly 


382 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


laying their heads together to discover what had 
brought Miss West to Monk’s Norton church; 
and over the tea-table they had been telling their 
aunt and uncle what a very important personage 
Miss West was in the eyes of society — how 
wealthy, how run after, how beautiful, and 
what a catch she would be for some young man 
if she could be caught! But she was so difficult 
to please. She was so cold ; she froze her admirers 
if they ever got further than asking for dances. 

‘‘All heiresses are said to be handsome, no 
matter what their looks. She is no beauty, poor 
thing! She looks as if she is dying. How can 
any one admire lantern jaws, sunken eyes, and 
a pale face? Give me round, rosy cheeks.” 
And the rector glanced significantly at his two 
nieces, who were not slow to accept the compli- 
ment. 

“Oh, aunty, she is shockingly changed since 
I saw her last,” said Laura. “She really if 
pretty; every one said so — even other women. 
She had an immense reputation as a beauty : and 
when she came into a ballroom nobody else was 
looked at.” 

“Well, my lasses,” said the rector, rising and 
brushing the crumbs of cake from his knees, 
“the world’s idea of beauty must have altered 
very much since I was a young man; or else 
your friend has altered greatly. Believe nie^ 
she would not be looked at noiv.'' 

So saying, he went off to his study, presum- 
ably to write his Sunday sermon — perhaps to 
read the newspaper. 


J 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


383 . 


His nieces put on their hats again, and went 
out and had a game of tennis. Tennis between 
sisters is a little slow ; and after a time Laura 
said : 

‘‘Look here, Dolly, supposing we go up to the 
churchyard and see where she has left those 
flowers. There wouli be no harm in that, would 
there?” 

Her sister warmly agreed to the suggestion, 
and the two set forth on their quest with eager 
alacrity. 

They discovered the object of their walk with- 
out any difficulty ; for the lovely white lilies were 
quite a prominent object on the green turf. 

Miss West had laid them upon the new grave 
— the child’s grave. How strange! 


. 384 


MAKRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XL 

A FORLORN HOPE 

The hurried expedition to the Holt Farm, and 
subsequent visit to Monks Norton, had not agreed 
with Miss West. She had a most mysterious re- 
lapse, inexplicable alike to her father and her 
medical adviser. 

The former had left her comparatively better, 
ere starting for a long day in London. Little 
did he guess that the invalid had followed him 
by the next train, had given Josephine a holiday, 
bad traveled into Hampshire, and gone through 
more mental and bodily stress than would ex- 
haust a woman in robust health, had returned 
but an hour before him in a prostrate condition 
— and had subsequently kept her room for days. 

“I cannot account for it,” the doctor said. 
“Great physical debility. But, besides this, 
there is some mental trouble.” 

“Impossible!” rejoined Mr. West emphati- 
cally. 

“At any rate she must be roused; or I cannot 
answer for the consequences. She has no wish 
to get well. She won’t* take the trouble to live. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


385 


I think, if you could manage to get her on board 
ship, a sea voyage might have a good effect.” 

Yes, that would be the very thing, and fall in 
with Mr. West’s plans. A trip to Australia. 

“How about a trip out to Sydney?” 

“Yes; and the sooner you can get her off the 
better. Her illness is more mental than phy- 
sical. She will perhaps recover amid totally 
strange surroundings, and where there is noth- 
ing to recall whatever is preying on her mind.” 

“Preying on — stuff and nonsense — preying on 
a goose’s mind!” cried Mr. West, irascibly. 

“I dare say whatever preyed upon a goose’s 
mind would have a scanty meal,” said the phy- 
sician rather stiffly. 

“But she has never had a care in her life!” 

“Umph!” rejoined the other doubtfully. “A"o 
love affairs?” 

“Not one.” 

“Well, I won’t conceal from you that she is 
in a most critical state. Take her abroad at 
once; you have given up your town house, you 
tell me; you have no anchor, no ties. You 
should start immediately, and be sure you hu- 
mor her, and coax her into the trip, for it is 
only right to tell you that it’s just touch and 
go!” 

This was terrible news to Mr. West. His 
daughter had lost her looks, her spirits, her 
health; was he to lose her altogether? He broke 
the news of a sea voyage to her rather timidly 
that same evening. She listened to his eager 
schemes, his glowing woz’d-paintings, his proph- 


386 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


ecy of a jolly good time, with a dull, vacant 
eye, and totally indifferent air. 

‘‘Yes, if he wished — whatever he pleased,’’ 
she assented languidly. It was all the same, she 
reflected, ivhere she died, on land or sea. But 
to one item she dissented — =she objected to the 
proffered company of Mrs. Leach. 

“This was just a sick girl’s whim!” said Mr. 
West to himself, and he would not argue out the 
matter at present ; but he was secretly resolved 
that the charming widow should be one of the 
party. She had written him such heart-broken 
letters about Madeline from Scarborough (but 
she had not seen Madeline since her illness had 
been pronounced infectious). There was no fear 
noiL\ and the doctor had said that a cheerful lady 
companion, whom the invalid liked, and who 
would share her cabin and look after her and 
cheer her, was essential. Who so suitable as 
Mrs. Leach? He would pay her return passage 
and all expenses; and when Madeline had re- 
tired, he sat down and penned an eager letter co 
her to that effect. 

In two days Mrs. Leach was at Brighton, with 
a quantity of [luggage — boxes, bags — and, in a 
fascinating cloak and hat, had rushed into the 
hand-shake of her dear Mr. West. She was 
looking remarkably brilliant. Oh, what a con- 
trast to his poor emaciated child, who increased 
her forlorn appearance by wearing a black dress! 
She did not give Mrs. Leach a particularly cor- 
dial reception. 

“She does not care to see any explained 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


387 


Mr. West apologetically, when he and his en- 
chantress sat vis-a-vis over dessert. ‘‘She takes 
no interest in anything on earth — it’s mental, 
the doctors say,” touching his forehead. “She 
has had not only diphtheria, but some sort of 
shock. She sits moping and weeping all day; 
she never opens a book, never opens her lips ; 
she never listens to half that is said to her; she 
won’t eat, she can’t sleep, and she insists on 
wearing black. I can’t understand it.” 

But Mrs. Leach could; she saw it all. Who- 
ever the man was in the background of Made- 
line’s life, he was dead. Either that, or he had 
deceived her, and, as a result, she was almost 
crazy with grief. And what a wreck! 

Mrs. Leach took everything firmly in her grasp 
at once; she was unusuall}^ active and busy. 
They were to sail in ten days, and there was 
Madeline’s outfit; but here no interference was 
permitted. Madeline selected her own wardrobe 
— a few black gowns. However, on the other 
hand, Mrs. Leach looked well after Madeline’s 
correspondence; all letters were brought first to 
her. She did not wish Mr. West’s sharp eyes to 
notice the swarms of bills which pursued her, 
and she passed all his and his daughter’s letters 
in review ere they were laid upr-ii the breakfast 
or afternoon tea-table. Madeline never appeared 
until the afternoon, and exhibited no interest in 
the daily post; she was, however, pleased to see 
Lady Rachel and her brother,, who came down 
from town, ere their departure to Scotland, ex- 
pressly to wish her a bon voyage and a speedy 


388 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


return. They were really quite affected when 
they beheld what was neither more nor less than 
the specter of Madeline West — the gay and radi- 
ant girl of last season ! 

They had brought her books, flowers, her fa- 
vorite Fuller’s sweets, many scraps of news, 
and, under the influence of their infectious spirits, 
she cheered up temporarily. Mrs. Leach, how- 
ever, despite the coldness of Lady Rachel and 
surliness of Lord Tony, remained of the com- 
pany, acting as a sort of female warder; and 
there was no really free intercourse. In spite of 
broad hints, she stuck most pertinaciously to her 
seat and her silk sock, throwing in observations 
every now and then. Certainly she ivas thick- 
skinned. 

At last Lady Rachel said boldly : 

“Now, Madeline, take me to your room, my 
dear.” 

Madeline rose with an effort. 

“Oh, my dearest, you must not go into the 
draught on any account! I’ll take Lady Rachel 
to mine.” 

“No, thank you, Mrs. Leach; I rather wish 
to have Miss West to myself for a little, and I 
dare say she can wrap up if the draughts are so 
much keener noiv than at any other time of the 
day,” and Lady Rachel carried her point. 

“I wanted to speak to you alone, Madilie,” she 
said as she closed the door, “and that odious, 
thick-skinned alligator of a woman never gave 
me a chance! She knows that I loathe her, and 
might put you on your guard.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


389 


‘‘I am on my guard. I know her, I think, 
even better than you do.” 

‘‘And you don’t like her?” 

“No, I don’t trust her.” 

“I should hope not. She is a regular sort 
of society adventuress; a notorious evil -speaker, 
liar, and slanderer ; always poking into secrets, 
and levying genteel blackmail. I had such an 
account of her from Mrs. Berthon lately. I 
never liked her — never ; but I was not up to all 
her history. Her father was a coal merchant, 
and a man of very low origin — she is a nobody. 
Major Leach was caught; he thought she had 
a quantity of money. That is always her bait — 
display, dress, diamonds. His family no longer 
speak to her, though she quotes them on all occa- 
sions, and gives them as reference to hotels and 
banks, and lets them in. She owes my dress- 
maker six hundred pounds, and she has put her 
off with the excuse that she is going to marry 
an immensely rich man!” 

“Really! who can it be?” indifferently. 

“Can’t you guess, you dear blind bat?” 

“Not my father?” 

“Well, I hope not. You must rouse yourself 
and interfere; elderly men are so easily made 
fools of. Is it true that she is going with you to 
Sydney, or is it just a piece of gossip?” 

“Yes, it is quite true.” 

“Then you must stop it; you really must, un- 
less you wish to have her as a stepmother. She 
wull be engaged before you are at Gib. I think 
I can see her in smart board-ship frocks, very 


390 


MARRIED OR 6INGLE ? 


pleasant, very helpless; your father, an idle 
man, waiting on her assiduously, and carrying 
her wraps and books; you below, ho^'s de com- 
bat. Oh, she will not lose her opportunity, and 
she sticks at nothing. 

afraid I can’t stop her!” 

''I tell you you must. I wish I was going 
with you instead.” 

“Oh, how 1 wish you were!” 

“But I can’t; my plans are cut and dried by 
Mr. J. 1 shall write to you often, dear, and ex- 
pect to see you back in six months, or at least 
twelve, looking quite yourself; now, promise 
me.” 

Madeline, whose spirits were running down 
and a reaction setting in, made no answer, save 
tears. 

Lady Rachel’s warning sank into fruitful soil. 
Madeline plucked up sufficient energy to urge 
her father to relieve her of her incubus. 

“I should much prefer being alone; I should 
indeed.” 

“Pooh, pooh, my dear!” recalling her doctor’s 
advice, and thinking what an agreeable shipmate 
he was providing, not only for Madeline, but 
himself. “Nonsense; iPs all settled, passages 
booked. No change possible.” 

“I shall be far happier without her.’’ 

“Oh, rubbish! You are just weak now, and 
fanciful. Mrs. Leach is devoted to you.” 

“I doubt ifc; and, father, let me tell you a 
secret. I don’t like her. I am sure she is not 
sincere. She is not straight.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


391 


‘‘Come, come ; she is as sincere as most women. 
I wonder who has been putting these notions into 
your head — Lady Rachel, eh? Mrs. Leach 
gave me a hint. Lady Rachel is all very 
well, and very pleasant; but a bit rapid, you 
know.” 

“Whatever she does is open and above-board, ” 
protested Madeline warmly. 

“I’m not so sure of f/mf, my dear. Mrs. 
Leach knows a few things that would never stand 
the light, and her ladyship is aware of this, and 
that’s why she hates our good friend, and wants 
to set you against her.” 

Madeline, Aveak and miserable, could not argue. 
She was powerless against the attractive widow. 
She, poor hollow-eyed wreck, was no fitting op- 
ponent for the fascinating Flora, whose battery 
of beauty and smiles was most effective, and 
had captivated Madeline’s susceptible parent. 
Her influence was far more powerful than Made- 
line’s on the question of what was for the bene- 
fit of the invalid, and the invalid saw that it was 
useless to prolong the secret struggle, and suc- 
cumbed to her fate. 

Laurence Wynne had not come across Mr. 
West for a considerable time; but he knew that 
the Wests were at Brighton, and that Miss West 
was almost convalescent. It was the end of Oc- 
tober, London was filling, and he was lunching 
at his club, with one or two acquaintances at the 
same table, when one of them said — 

“Hullo! there’s old West. I must go and 
have a ‘Word with him presently. He looks 


392 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


rather down; not half as smart and perky as 
last year.” 

‘‘He has lost a good deal of money!” observed 
the other. 

“Yes; but not as much as is supposed. He 
is an uncommonly shrewd old boy, and knows 
when to save himself; but he can’t save himself 
from his present trouble. He is going to lose 
his daughter?” 

“His what?” put in Wynne, quickly. 

‘ ‘ Daughter. Surely you’ ve heard of the lovely 
Miss West? She was the rage for two seasons. 
She got diphtheria in the summer, and — ” 

“Yes, yes; I know,” impatiently; 

“Well, he took her down to Brighton, and she 
had a bad relapse of some kind. I was there on 
Saturday last, and I saw her. Her carriage had 
stopped at a shop I was coming out of. I give 
you my honor I had to look at her three times 
before I was sure of her ; she has lost every par- 
ticle of color and flesh and beauty. She might 
be thirty-five, and gives one the idea of a person 
who had seen a ghost, and never got over it. 
Yes” — in answer to the expression of his listen- 
ers’ eyes — “it’s rather awful. She used to be 
so pretty; now she has death in her face.” 

“Are you in earnest, Ruscombe?” 

“Why, of course I am. Old West is in a deadly 
funk, and taking her off to Australia, as a sort 
of forlorn hope. But he will never get her there 
alive.” 

“Who says so?” he asked sharply. 

“I thought you did not know her, man! The 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


393 


doctor who attends her happens to be my brother- 
in-law; and, of course, we are all interested in 
the beauty. He has a very poor opinion — Oh, 
are you off? The fellow is mad. He hasn’t 
touched a morsel. What the dickens! — Oh, ho! 
Now, what does that mean — he is buttonholing 
the old squatter himself?” 

“No, Wynne, not seen you for ages,” Mr. 
West was saying. “I never come to the club. 
No spirits for anything. My daughter is ill — 
got a sort of relapse. The doctors say that she 
has some trouble on her mind — must have had a 
shock. Extraordinary case! She has never had 
a care in her life!” 

Mr. Wynne made no answer, and looked 
down. 

“She can’t get up any strength, and — and 
takes no notice of anything, does not want to 
recover,. and is just fading away!” 

“Ah, that’s bad ! I suppose you have the best 
advice that is possible?” 

What a nice, kind fellow Wynne was! When 
one was in trouble he quite took it to heart too; 
he appeared — or was it the bad light —actually 
grave and anxious. 

“I’m taking her to Sydney, to try the effect of 
the sea and change; it’s just a chance — a last 
chance.” 

“And when do you start?” he asked, taking 
out his handkerchief and wiping his brow. 

“The day after to-morrow, in the ‘Victoria.’ 
We go from Tilbury Docks; as she couldn’t stand 
the journey across, and, in fact, the more sea the 


394 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


better. A lady friend is very kindly coming as 
her companion, just for the trip; but Madeline 
and I will not return to England for a year or 
two. I’ll see how her native climate will suit 
her.” 

“Yes; I hope sincerely that it will,” said 
Wynne. There was an atmosphere of sympathy 
in his vicinity that had the effect of compelling 
confidences. 

“I think the London racketing knocked her 
up, and I’m never going to have a town house 
again. When I come back, I shall buy some 
ancient historical mansion, the seat of some old 
family that have died out, and restore it. That 
is, of course, if Madeline — ” He left his listener 
to fill in the sentence. 

“Yes,” rather absently. 

“I daresay you’ll be married and settled by 
the time I see you again.” 

“I am not likely to marry,” he returned 
quietly. 

“Oh, yes, yes; I forgot — a widower, eh? And 
how’s the child? I always forgot to ask?” 

“The child is dead,” he answered gravely. 

“Dear me, that’s a pity; children are a ter- 
rible anxiety, as I know! Well, I hope to come 
across you again, Wynne.” 

“I think it very likely that we shall meet again, 
and very shortly, for I am going out to Australia 
myself, almost immediately.” 

“No! Oil, I’m delighted to hear it! Law 
business, of course, with an immense fee, eh?” 

“On most important business, at any rate. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


395 


And now I’ll say good-by for the present, for I 
have a great deal to do before I start.” 

‘‘And IVe been jawing away about my family 
affairs and taking up your precious time I I’m 
awfully sorry. I say, I wish you could manage 
to come out with us in the ‘Victoria.’ Could 
you?” 

“I’ll do my best.” And he hurried off to 
wire to Fenchurch Street to secure a berth. 


CHAPTER XLI 

“LAURENCE!” 

The “Victoria” was a crowded ship. There 
was a large contingent of Australian passengers, 
also many Anglo-Indians who changed at Aden, 
and a number of society swallows who were 
bound for Italy and Egypt. Madeline and Mrs. 
Leach shared a four-berthed cabin, and enjoyed 
the luxury of two spare berths, which served as 
holdalls for their belongings. Mrs. Leach had 
innumerable parcels, bags, boxes, books, a jewel- 
case, a tea-basket. She busied herself ere start.; 
ing in fixing up her affairs, and annexed fully 
three quarters of the available space. Madeline 
was tired, and put on a tea-gown and lay in her 
berth languidly watching her partner making 
her toilet, arranging her hair, her dress, her 
rings, ere sallying forth to dinner and conquest. 
Slie looked remarkably handsome, prosperous, 


396 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


and triumphant as she turned to the wretched 
girl in the berth, and surveyed her exhaustively. 
She had adopted a curious way of staring at her 
the last few days — a gaze of polite, half-veiled 
insolence— that was distinctly irritating. 

‘‘Well, dear Madeline”— the steamer had left 
the docks and was steadily throbbing down the 
Thames — “so we are off you see, and I am of 
the party — no thanks to you. Oh, I know all 
about it, dearest, and I know what you would 
little guess.” 

“What?” 

“Ah, no matter,” with a meaning smile. 

“No, I suppose it is no matter,” wearily. 
Nothing mattered, she was so tired — oh, so 
tired. She wished she was dead, and she 
slowly closed her eyes on her companion. 

Mrs. Leach gazed at her in amazement. 
What she knew did matter very much. It was 
all very fine for Madeline to close her eyes and 
waive away a subject. She would discover that 
she. Flora Leach, had her in her power — she 
held her in the hollow of her hand. Luck— she 
called it — had dealt her an ace of trumps ! Peo- 
ple were settling into their places as Mrs. Leach 
entered, and there was the usual confusion in the 
saloon — incidental to starting. Mr. West had 
secured a capital seat, and he and Mrs. Leach 
dined happily together — and were generally taken 
for man and wife. The dinner and wine was good, 
the motion almost nil., a mere slight shaking, and 
the widow enjoyed herself vastly. Madeline 
was rather tired, she said; Josephine was look- 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


397 


ing after her. A little soup was all she would 
take. Should she tell him note? No, the situa- 
tion was too public, he would probably shout and 
make a scene. She would wait for a day or 
two, until they had their two deck chairs com- 
fortably drawn up side by side, under the lee of 
a cabin, and when the dusk had come and the 
stars were out, she would whisper into his ear 
his daughter’s secret. 

When Mrs. Leach retired to her cabin that 
night Madeline was asleep. How pale and wan 
her face, how thin her hands, she might be dead 
— she wished she were. Then she took her bag 
out of the bottom berth — she occupied a top one 
by preference— and searching in its pockets, got 
out a letter-case, extracted a letter, and sat down 
to read it. It was pleasant reading, to judge by 
her expression, and she went over it no less than 
twice. The motion of the steamer was not so 
agreeable ; in fact, it was becoming more remark- 
able every moment. The things on hooks were 
getting lively and beginning to swing. She 
crushed the note hastily into its envelope, thrust 
it into her bag, and began to undress as quickly 
as possible. 

The next morning they were off Dover and 
the ‘‘Victoria” was rolling considerably. Mrs. 
Leach was wretchedly squeamish. She at- 
tempted to rise, she dresse*d with less than her 
usual elaboration, and staggered out into the 
saloon. Alas! she was too bold; the smell of 
fried fish was her undoing, and routed her with 
great slaughter. She lay in her berth all day, 


398 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


and all the next day. Also Madeline; but she 
was not a prey to Neptune— only so tired — so 
tired of life, and everything. 

Late in the afternoon a bustling, talkative 
stewardess came in and, willy-nilly, got her up, 
helped her to dress, put a long cloak about her, 
and assisted her upon deck about dusk. 

‘^The air will do you good, miss. You are no 
more seasick than I am. If you stop in that 
stuffy cabin you’ll be real bad, and the gentle- 
man said as I was to fetch you, if you could 
stand. There’s a nice long chair, and cushions 
and rug, all waiting for you in a sheltered 
place.” 

And in this chair she soon found herself, while 
her father fussed round and wrapped her up. 
The weather was certainly boisterous, the waves 
broke over occasionally with a long and vicious 
swish; but the air was strong and invigorating, 
and the pallid girl leaned back and drank it 
eagerly. 

“There are a whole lot of people on board, you 
know, Maddie,” said Mr. West, sinking into a 
seat beside her. 

“Are there? I am sorry to hear it,” she an- 
swered querulously. 

“Oh, 1 say; come, come! and all so anxious 
to see you again.” 

“See me again!” with a weary little laugh, 
“they won’t know me when they do see me.” 

“There is Lady Stiff-Staff going out to Bom- 
bay with her daughters, and Captain Vansittart, 
and Miss De Ville, who was at school with you.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


399 


I can’t hear her!” was the petulant 

reply. 

He was about to add, ‘‘and Mr. Wynne,” but 
she could not bear him either, nor dare he men- 
tion that it was Mr. Wynne who had urged him 
to get Miss West on deck, at all costs, if she was 
not seasick; Mr. Wynne who had helped to find 
a stray corner, and brought up cushions and rugs 
(Mr. Wynne who had secretly tipped the stew- 
ardess a sovereign). He was a nice, warm- 
hearted fellow. He was glad he was on board 
(Wynne was a whist player), he liked him. A 
pity Maddie had such a prejudice against him. 

Mr. West talked on, asked for poor Mrs. Leach. 
“Josephine, I hear, is dead,” he remarked, “or 
says she’s dead. It’s a mercy you are a good 
sailor. This bit of a breeze is nothing, Wait 
till you see how it blows off the Lewin ! And I 
dare say, once we are round Finisten*e, it will be 
a mill-pond. Now I’m dying to smoke, and as 
I know you can’t stand it, ITl go for a bit. Shall 
I ask Lady De la Creme to come and sit here in 
my place, and amuse you — eh?” 

“Oh, no— -no. I don’t want any one, I’m go- 
ing down soon.” 

She remained for some time in a half-dreamy 
state, watching the sea, the flying wrack of 
clouds, the somewhat faint and timid young 
moon, which occasionally peeped forth. Her 
eyes had become accustomed to the dim light, 
when she was rather surprised and annoyed to 
see a tall man approach and coolly seat himself 
in her father’s chair— which was drawn up along- 


400 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


side, and almost touching hers. Presently he 
spoke. 

‘‘Madeline,” he whispered, leaning toward 
her. 

“Laurence! Not Laurence?” she exclaimed 
faintly. 

“Yes — I hope 3^011 are better?” 

“No.” A long pause, and then, in a dead, 
dull tone, she added, “I hope I am going to die.” 

“What is the matter with you?” 

“The3" call it by some long Latin name; but 
you and I know what it is.” 

“Your father is still in the dark?” 

“Yes, it is scarcely worth while to tell him 
noiv; no need to worry him for nothing. When 
I am dead you will forgive me, Laurence, and — 
and think less hardly of me?” 

“You are not dead, or going to die, and I pre- 
fer to forgive 3"ou when you are alive.” 

“And will 3"ou — but no, 3"ou won’t — 3"ou can- 
not — why should .you? I don’t expect it,” she 
said in hurried gasps. “What can I do now to 
atone?” 

“Get better, get quite well, and I will forgive 
3"ou everijtlnng.'*'^ 

She laughed, a queer little hollow laugh, and 
then said : 

“How strange that you should be onboard. 
Are you going to Egypt?” 

“No— to Sydne3\” 

“Wh}^? Have you friends there, or busi- 
ness?” 

“Both; urgent affairs, and I expect to meet 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


401 


friends. Your father says he is delighted that I 
am a fellow-passenger. He likes me.” 

“Hov\^ — how extraordinary!” 

‘‘Yes; you do not flatter me. But at least it 
is fortunate — Well, now, you will have to go 
down. It is getting rather chilly.” 

“Oh, no, no; I like being here. And the 
cabin is stuffy, and Mrs. Leach is so — so — such 
a wretched sailor.” 

“Then I am truly sorry for you. But you 
really must go. I’ll guarantee to take you be- 
low quifce safely.” 

“No, no. Papa will — 

“It’s as much as he can do to keep his legs, 
much less steer another. But if you prefer it, 
I’ll call the stewardess.” 

“No; never mind” — rising and staggering, 
and putting a mere skeleton hand on his; and, 
as he supported her tremulous steps, he realized 
how fearfully weak she was. 

They got downstairs safely, and, as she paused,, 
breathless, for a moment under the great electric 
light, they looked into one another’s faces for the 
first time since that June morning. 

It was all that Wynne could do to repress an 
exclamation of horror, as a white, hollow- cheeked 
specter raised her sunken, hopeless-looking eyes 
to his. Even the doctor’s brother-in-law had not 
prepared him for this, 

“Stewardess,” he said, as soon as he could 
cbntrol his voice, “take gi*eat care of this lady. 
M,ake her eat. Get her some supper at once — • 
some hot soup and a glass of Burgundy. You 


402 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


must have something to eat before you turn 
in.” 

‘‘Oh, no; I could not,” she protested feebly. 
“I don’t want anything.” 

“Oh, yes you do; and you will be sure to come 
up early to-morrow. I’ll come and fetch you 
about eleven o’clock, weather permitting. ” And 
he walked off, and went on deck to a distant 
part of the ship, and leaned over the bulwarks 
alone. 

His old feeling for Madeline had come to life. 
That wasted form, those tragic eyes had touched 
him — cut him to the heart. Yes; she looked as 
if she was about to follow the child. If she had 
been to blame, he himself was not guiltless, He 
had upbraided her too bitterly; he had left her 
to bear her grief alone ; he had not made suffi- 
cient allowance for her youth, her natural crav- 
ing for the pleasures and delights of girls of her 
age. The domestic yoke had been laid upon her 
childish shoulders, and what a cruel weight it 
had proved ! Why should he have been aston- 
ished that she should be glad to slip her neck 
from under it for a year or two! She had no 
girlhood. She was endowed with a gay, happy, 
suPx-loving temperament. He should not have 
left the telling of tlieir secret in her hands ; he 
should have spoken to Mr. West himself. He 
would do so now, within the next few days. If 
Madeline was going to die, she should leave the 
world as Mrs. Wynne! But, whether she was 
to live or die, she should -have his incessant care. 

Day day Madeline appeared on deck, and 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


403 


day by day gained some steady but scarcely per- 
ceptible improvement. Mr. Wynne took much 
of her father’s attendance off his hands, and left 
him free to smoke and gossip and play whist. 
He arranged her pillows and rugs in her chair; 
saw that it was sheltered ; talked to her when she 
was inclined to’ talk; told her everything that 
was likely to amase her; brought up, or caused 
to appear at frequent intervals, soup, grapes, 
champagne, tea, arrowroot, and used all his per- 
suasions to induce her to partake of them. He 
had an unlimited supply of magazines, books, 
and picture-papers, which he read to her when 
she was disposed to listen; and, when she had 
looked them over, occasionally she fell asleep; 
and he sat beside her, contemplating her white 
and death-like appearance with a countenance to 
match. 

However, every sleep, every smile, was an 
inch on the road to recovery. Mr. West was ex- 
tremely obliged to him for his kind attentions to 
his daughter. He himself was very fond of 
Madeline, and, naturally, most anxious about 
his only child. But he confessed that he did not 
understand sick people, and was no hand at 
nursing. He felt doubly grateful to Wynne for 
his assiduity, and the. politeness and interest 
with which he listened to his own discourse. 

He talked to Wynne confidentially —chiefly 
about finance. He had lost some money lately 
— a good deal more than he liked. But he never 
pi\t his eggs into one basket, and had a fair 
amount in sound English securities. 


404 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Wynne was a steady — well — friend. Mr. West 
had recently experienced (and resented) a certain 
palpable change in the social temperature. He 
was no longer flattered, deferred to — or even 
listened to — as formerly. He was credited 
with the loss of most of his fortune — every one 
knew he had shares in the ‘‘Tom and Jerry” 
Bank — and his daughter with the loss of her 
beauty. 

“The Wests didn’t amount to much now,” to 
quote an American lady This conviction made 
Mr. West extremely wroth. People thought he 
was played-out. AVhoever was particularly civil 
to him note he took to his heart, and kept there. 

One evening Laurence made his way into the 
smoke-room, and stood looking on at the termina- 
tion of a rather hard-fought rubber. His father- 
in-law was playing. He was, moreover, hold- 
ing good cards, and in a state of high jubilation. 
His partner was Lord de la Creme. Could this 
trim, rather jaunty little man, holding the cards 
he was about to deal, and laughing a loud, rather 
forced laugh at one of his lordship’s good things 
— ^.e., a very middling joke — be a terribte do- 
mestic autocrat? Who would believe it? But 
Laurence looked below the surface. That quick, 
fiery little eye, now beaming so brightly, told a 
tale that he could read. It spoke of choler, ob- 
stinacy, of restless ambition, self-seeking, and 
fury Madeline, doubtless, knew the capabili- 
ties of that eye, and feared it. 

W hen the whist party had dissolved, and peo- 
ple were gone to their berths, Mr. West — who 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


405 


was always prepared to sit up —and Wynne were 
alone. 

“I suppose Madeline went below long ago? 
You have been looking after her as usual?” 

“Yes, I took her down.” 

“That’s all right” — pausing. “Then play a 
game of ecarte. There’s another half hour yet 
before lights-out.” 

“No, thanks. The fact is” — seating himself 
opposite, and squaring his arms on the table — “I 
want to have a few words with you.” 

“With me? Certainly, certainly” — with a 
momentary glance of surprise. “About those 
investments?” 

“No; it’s a more personal matter. You” — 
hesitating for a second — “have seemed to like 
me, Mr. West.” 

“Seemed! Why, T don’t know a single young 
fellow that I like as well. You are clever, you 
are good company, you are making yourself a 
name. I only wish I had a son like you!” 


406 , 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


CHAPTER XLII 

WON ALREADY 

“Then, what would you think of taking me 
for a son-in law?’’ said Mr. Wynne, fixing his 
dark eyes steadily on the little man opposite to 
him, who was busily shuffling the cards. 

“Eh!” was his only reply for quite a long 
time — an “eh!” incredulous, indignant, and yet 
not wholly combative — a long, sonorous exclama- 
tion. “Personally I like you, Wynne — could 
not like you better; but” — and he paused — 
“Madeline is my only child; she is remarkably 
handsome — was^ 1 should say for the present — 
and created quite a sensation in town. You are 
a very good fellow, and a gentleman, but don’t 
be offended if I confess that I am looking higher 
for her. I expect the man she marries to place 
a coronet on her head, and you must admit that 
she will grace it !” 

Laurence Wynne said nothing, merely nodded 
his assent, and his companion — who loved the 
sound of his own voice— resumed volubly. 

“Besides, Wynne, you are a widower! And 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


407 


she does not like you; it’s all very well when 
she is ill and helpless, and tolerates you; it’s 
truest kindness to tell you — and, indeed, you 
must see it yourself! You have no idea the 
iceberg she can be. I often wonder who she 
is waiting for, or what she expects?” 

“Look here. Mr. West, I can quite understand 
your views. Mad — I mean Miss West — would, 
of course, grace a coronet, as you say, but let 
me tell you that we Wynnes, of Rivals Wynne, 
have bluer blood in our veins than any of the 
mushroom titles of the last two hundred years. 
You will see, if you look in Burke, that we were 
at home before the Normans came over. We 
were Saxons, and still a power in the land. Our 
family title is extinct ; but it only wants money 
to restore it. I have relations who — like some 
relations — turned away their faces when I was 
poor; but were I to become rich and successful, 
they would receive me with open arms, and in- 
troduce my wife and myself to circles as exclu- 
sive and as far beyond the stray third-rate noble 
paupers who prey on your — your good-nature 
and — pardon me — your ignorance as the moon 
is above the earth. I speak plainly.” 

“You do, sir, and with a vengeance!” said Mr. 
Vfest, a little overawed by the other’s imperious 
manner; for Mr. Wynne had said to himself, 
why should he be timid before this man, who at 
most was a bourgeois^ whose father — best not 
seek to inquire into his history — whose fore- 
fathers had gone to their graves unwept, un- 
honored and unsung, while he, Laurence Wynne, 


408 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


though he boasted of no unearned increment, was 
descended from men who were princes at the 
time of the Heptarchy! 

“You value good birth, I see, Mr. West,” 
holding out his hand as if to convey the fact that 
he had scored a point. “And you value success. 
I am succeeding, and I shall succeed. I feel it. 
I know it — if my health is spared. I have brains, 
a ready tongue, an indomitable will; I shall go 
into Parliament; think what a vast field of pos- 
sibilities that opens out! Which of your other 
would-be sons-in-law aims at political life? Look 
at Levanter, the reputation he would bring you.” 
Laurence shuddered as he spoke. “Do not all 
honest men shun him? What decent club would 
own him? Look at Monty cute, what has he to 
offer, but his ugly person, his title, and his debts? 
He and others like him propose to barter their 
wretched names and, as they would pretend, the 
entree to society— not for your daughter’s per- 
sonal attractions, of which they think but little, 
butcher fortune, of which they think a great 
deal!” 

“Young man, young man!” gasped Mr. West 
inarticulately, “you speak boldly — far too 
boldly.” 

“I speak the sacred truth, and nothing but the 
truth,” said Wynne, impetuously. “I offer my- 
self, my talents, my career, my ancient lineage, 
and unblemished name for your daughter. As 
to her fortune, I do not want it; I am now an 
independent man. Give me your answer, sir — 
yes or no.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


409 


Many possibilities floated through Mr. West’s 
brain as he sat for some moments in silence re- 
volving this offer. Levanter and Montycute 
were all that this impetuous young fellow had 
described. He had good blood in his veins; he 
was handsome, clever, rising, while they were 
like leeches, ready to live upon him, and giving 
nothing in exchange but their barren names. 
This man’s career was already talked of; he 
could vouch for one success, which had agree- 
ably affected his own pocket, and, with the 
proverbial gratitude, he looked in the same di- 
rection for favors to come. He had an eloquent 
tongue, a ready pen, and a fiery manner that 
carried all before it. He would go into the 
.House, he would (oh! castle-building Mr. West) 
be one of the great men — Chancellor of the Ex- 
chequer — some day. He shut his eyes — he saw 
it all. He saw his son-in-law addressing the 
House, and every ear within its walls hanging 
on his words. He saw himself, a distinguished 
visitor, and Madeline among the peeresses. 

Laurence Wynne, keen and acute, was con- 
vinced that some grand idea was working in 
his companion’s mind, and struck while the 
iron was hot. 

‘‘May I hope for your consent, sir?” he asked 
quickl}". 

“Well, yes, you may, if you can win her. 
You are welcome, as far as I am concerned. 
Yes!” holding out his rather short, stubby hand, 
with one big diamond blazing on his little finger. 
“It’s time she was settled, and I’m afraid she 


410 


MAKRIED OR SINGLE ? 


will never be what she was, as regards her looks. 
I did hanker after a ready-made title, but one 
can’t have everything ! I like you. You are 
tolerant of an old man’s whims; you don’t laugh 
at me under my own roof, and think I don’t see 
it like some young cubs; you are a gentleman, 
and I give you Maddie and welcome, now that 
I have talked it over; but the hitch you will 
find, will be the girl herself. She is, as you may 
see, utterly broken down and altered, and in no 
mind to listen to a love tale; but, well or ill, I 
must tell you honestly that I would not give 
much for your chance.” 

‘‘What would you say, sir,” said Laurence, 
now becoming a shade paler, “if I were to tell 
you that I had won her already 9^'^ 

Mr. West looked at him sharply. 

“The deuce you have! And when?” 

“More than three years ago.” 

“What! before I came home? when she was 
at Harpers’? Were you the half-starved fellow 
that I heard was hanging about? Oh, never!” 

“I don’t think I was half-starved, but I was 
most desperately in love with her.” 

“Oh, so it’s an old affair?” 

“Yes, an old affair, as you say, Mr. West. 
And you have given me Madleine if I can win 
her, have you not?— that is a promise?” 

“Yes,” rather impatiently. “I never go back 
on a promise.” 

“Well, now,” leaning forward and' resting his 
head on his hand, and speaking more deliberate- 
ly, “I am going to tell you something that 1 am 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


4L1 


certain will surprise, and I fear will incense you ; 
but you will bear me out to the end. We have 
been married for more than three years!” He 
paused — not unnaturally nervous — awaiting the 
result of this tardy announcement. 

“Why! what — what — what the devil do you 
mean?” stammered Mr. West, his little eyes 
nearly starting from their sockets. “What do 
you mean, sir? I — I don’t believe^ you, so there! 
— don’t believe a word of it!” breathing hard. 

“If you will only listen to me patiently, you 
luill believe me. I am going to tell you many 
things that you ought to have been made ac- 
quainted with long ago.” 

Mr. West opened his mouth. No sound came. 
He was speechless. And his son-in-law pro- 
ceeded very steadily. “Four years ago you 
were said to be bankrupt, if not dead. Mrs. 
Harper gave you no law when your bills were 
not paid. You have never heard that Madeline, 
from being the show-pupil and favorite, sank to 
be the shabby school drudge — half-fed, half- 
clothed, and not paid for the work of two gov- 
ernesses. This went on for a whole year. I 
saw her at a breaking-up affair, when she played 
all night for her schoolfellows to dance. I fell 
in love with her then. Miss Selina hated us 
both, and, to satisfy her hate and malice, man- 
aged — one night in the holidays — to leave us 
both behind at Riverside, late for the last train. 
We had all been to the theater. The affair was 
planned. We waited where we were desired to 
' wait, and lost the train. Next morning I called 


412 


MAKRIED OR SINGLE? 


to explain to Miss Harper ; but Madeline’s char- 
acter was gone — she was turned out, dismissed 
without mercy. She had no friends, no salary, 
no reference. I had, at least, bread and cheese 
— so I took her to London and married her.” 

He stopped and looked at Mr. AVest, who was 
livid, and who cried out in a loud, strange voice : 

“Go on, sir — go on — and get it over, before I 
go mad !” 

“I was poor. We lived in lodgings; but we 
were very happy. After a^time poverty and 
sickness knocked at our door. I had typhoid 
fever. It was an unhealthy season, and I nearly 
died. I have sometimes since thought that it 
would have been well if I had died, and thus cut 
the Gordian knot and released Madeline. How- 
ever, I hung on, a miserable, expensive, useless 
invalid. In the middle of all this a child was 
born.” 

Mr. West started out of his chair; but subse- 
quently resumed it. 

“It was a boy — ” 

“A boy! Where is it?” demanded his list- 
ener, fiercely. 

“You shall hear presently,” said his son-in- 
law, gravely. “Madeline was the kindest of 
wives, nurses, mothers.” 

“Madeline — my Madeline?” said her father, 
in a tone of querulous incredulity and shrill ir- 
ritation. 

“We had no money — none. I had kept aloof 
from many acquaintances since I married, and 
my relations dropped me with, one consent. We 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


413 


pawned all we had, save the clothes on our backs. 
We were almost starving. In those days Made- 
line was a model of courage, cheerfulness, endur- 
ance, and deyotion. When I recall those days I 
can forgive her much.” 

‘‘Forgive her! Madeline pawning clothes! 
Madeline starving!” cried her father, so loudly 
that a sleepy cabin-steward looked in. 

Mr. Wynne signed to him to go away, and 
continued, “Ay, she was. We could barely keep 
the wolf out. Then came your letter to the 
Harpers, and they advertised for Madeline. She 
saw the message, and pawned her wedding-ring 
to go to them. And they, never dreaming that 
she was married, received her with rapture as 
Miss West. She had no tell-tale ring, and Mrs. 
Harper heard that she had been in a shop in 
London, in the mantle department. In an evdl 
moment Madeline saw your letter wherein you 
spoke very strongly against a poor love affair, 
and possible marriage. So, in desperation, and 
to get money and bread for her child and for me, 
she deceived you. Later on, when the influence 
of wealth and power and luxury ate their way 
into her soul, she still deceived you — and forgot 
us. I must speak the truth.” 

Mr. West nodded. 

“She put off the dreaded day of telling you 
all, and I was out of patience. She would not 
allow me to break the news. You remember one 
evening that I called in Belgrave Square, and 
we went to look at a picture together? It was 
then that I made my last appeal. ’ ’ 


414 MARRIED OR SINGLE? 

‘^She gave you up, then?” he asked abruptly. 
“She did.” 

“And the child?” eagerly. “My grandson, 
my heir!” 

“You remember the great ball you gave last 
June?” 

“Of course — of course,” irritably. “It will 
not be forgotten in a hurry.” 

“He died that night,” said Mr. Wynne, 
slowly. 

“Eh! what did you say? Nonsense!” 

“He died of diphtheria. Madeline came too 
late to see him alive. It was from the child she 
caught the infection. Yes, I believe she kissed 
him. He was a lovely boy — with such a bright 
little face and fair hair. We kept him at a 
Hampshire farmhouse. Many a time I told 
Madeline that the very sight of him would soften 
you toward us; but she would not listen. She 
made promises and broke them. She feared you 
too much.” 

“Feared me/” 

“Since his death, I have had nothing to say to 
her; but I heard that she was very ill in London; 
and I used to find how she was going on from 
various people, including yourself, as you may 
remember. I thought my heart was steeled 
against her, but I find it is not. I am ready to 
make friends. I heard accidentally that she was 
in a most critical state — that day I saw you at 
the club — and I threw up all my briefs and busi- 
ness and took a passage.” 

“And so she is your business in Sydney?” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


415 


“She — she is most wofully changed. When 
I first saw her under the lamp, I — I — I — cannot 
tell you — ” He paused, and drew in a long, 
slow breath, which said much. 

“Poor girl! No wonder she looks as if she 
had seen great troubles. I wonder she is alive. 
Well, I’ll not add to them! She treated me 
badly; but she has treated you worse. And 
afraid of me! Why, every one knows that my 
bark is worse than my bite — in fact, I have no 
bite — And you stuck to her when she had no 
friends! Oh, what a treacherous old serpent 
was that Harper — harridan. Steady payment 
for nine years. And to treat my daughter so ! 
And I actually gave that sour old maid a present 
for her kindness to Maddie. They did not know 
you were married to her?” 

“No; scarcely any one knows.” 

“And what’s to be done! How is it to be de- 
clared, this marriage? How is the world to be 
told that Madeline has been humbugging them 
for the last two years as Miss West?” 

“The wedding can easily be put in the paper 
as having taken place in London, with no date. 
It will only be a nine-days’ wonder. We can 
send it from the first place we touch at.” 

“Ah, you are a clever fellow, Wynne. Hallo! 
the lights are going out, and we shall be in dark- 
ness.” 

“But you are no longer in darkness respecting 
me.” 

“Well, I feel in a regular fog. And so you’re 
my son-in-law !” 


416 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


“Yes, there is no doubt about that.” 

“It’s odd that I always cottoned to you.” 

“You will not be harsh with Madeline, will 
you?” 

“Do you take me for a Choctaw Indian, sir? 
I’ll say nothing at present. Board ship is no 
place for scenes. She’s very shaky still, though 
better.” 

. “Yes, I think she is a shade better now she is 
on deck all day.” 

“It was an awful pity about the little boy, 
Wynne, and — ” 

Here the electric light suddenly went out, and 
Mr. West had to grope his way as best he could 
to his own cabin. He lay awake for hours, list- 
ening to the seas washing against the side of his 
berth, thinking — thinking of what he had been 
told that night, thinking of Madeline and Wynne 
in a new light, and thinking most of all of the 
little fair haired grandchild that he had never 
seen. 


CHAPTER XLIII 

HEARTS ARE TRUMPS 

The night of the conversation in the smoking- 
room, when Mr. West scrambled below in the 
dark — not knowing, as he subsequently explained 
it, whether he stood on his head or his heels — 
was the occasion of a curious incident in Miss 
West’s cabin. Each day as she grew stronger 
and better, recovering energy and appetite, Mrs. 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


417 


Leach became worse, and the weather to cor- 
respond. She sustained existence on Brand’s 
ess63nce and champagne, and counted the hours 
until they were in the Mediterranean — not that 
even the tideless sea can be reckoned on in Octo- 
ber. Mrs. Leach felt miserably ill, peevish, and 
envious; and when Madeline came down to go 
to bed, she asked her to get her a bottle out 
of her dressing-bag — ‘‘something to make her 
sleep.” 

“Shall I hand the bag up to you?” 

“No, no, it’s open. A long, greenish bottle — 
in the pocket next the blotter.” 

Yes, the bag was not locked ; the contents were 
in great confusion — combs, pins, handkerchiefs, 
note-paper. It was not so easy to discover the 
little green bottle. In turning out the loose 
articles Madeline came upon a letter addressed, 
in Mrs. Kane’s scrawl, to “Miss West, care of 
Mrs. Harper, Streambridge,” forwarded to Bel- 
grave Square, and from Belgrave Square to 
Brighton. Some one had kindly saved her the 
trouble of opening it,* presumably the lady in the 
top berth and the owner of the bag. 

“Well, have you not found it yet? Dear me, 
how slow you are!” she exclaimed fretfully. 

“Oh, yes. I’ve found it.” 

“Then do be quick. I feel as if I should die 
from this nausea and weakness.” 

Fortunately the little bottle turned up at this 
instant, and Madeline (having closed the bag and 
secured her letter) handed it up to Mrs. Leach, 
who next demanded “eau de Cologne, a hand- 


418 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


kerchief, another shawl, a tumbler, and some 
hairpins.” 

It was some time before she was at rest behind 
her curtains. The positions were reversed, and 
Madeline, the invalid on land, was not the in- 
valid at sea. At last she sat down to read her 
letter. She had had no communication with 
Mrs. Kane since she had been at Harperton, 
from whence she had sent her a ten-pound note. 
Luckily for her, Mrs. Kane never saw the society 
papers, and had no idea that her late lodger had 
blossomed out into a society beauty, much less 
that she lived in London, otherwise undoubtedly 
she would have had the pleasure (?) of a visit 
from her correspondent. The letter said : 

“2, Solferino Place. 

“Dear Madam — I hope, in remembrance of 
old times^ you will excuse my writing; but I 
am very hard set just at present, and would feel 
obliged if you could spare me a small matter of 
twenty pounds, Kane being out of employment 
since Easter Monday. I hope Ml Wynne and 
your dear baby are well. The baby must be a 
fine big fellow by this time — two last winter — 
and a great amusement. Has your pa ever 
found out the trick as you played — how, when 
he thought you was snug at school, you were 
a whole year living in London in this house? 

“I hope you won’t disappoint me regarding 
the money, as having your o^vn interests to con- 
sider as well as I have mine. 

“Yours affectionately, 

“Eliza Kane.” 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


419 


The postmark on the envelope was dated two 
days before they had left Brighton. And this 
was what Mrs. Leach meant by her hints and 
looks. This stolen letter was to be her trump 
card. 

. The next morning, when Madeline left her 
cabin, she was met by Laurence. He was, as 
usual, waiting, hanging about the passage and 
companion-ladder. At last a tall, slight figure 
in black appeared, a figure that walked with a 
firmer and more active step, and that no longer 
crawled listlessly from cabin to deck. It \yas 
MMeline, with a faint color in her face; she ac- 
costed him eagerly. 

‘‘Oh, Laurence!’’ she began, “I have some- 
thing to tell you. Come into the music-room; it 
is sure to be empty.” 

And then, in a few hurried sentences, she un- 
folded her discovery and placed Mrs. Kane’s 
nice little letter in his hands. 

“Of course, now I shall spe^k. Of course, I 
seem a miserably mean, cowardly creature ! It 
is only when forced by circumstances that I open 
my lips at last. Mrs. Leach has long guessed 
that I had a secret and a past — but, strive as 
she would, she could never find out anything 
definite.” 

“This is very definite,” said Laurence, dryly. 

“It is, indeed. I could not understand her in- 
tense scorn for me latterly. Laurence, I meant 
to have told my father immediately after— after 
last June, but I was ill; and then, as I used to 
lie thinking, thinking, I said to myself, I may as 


420 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


well earry the secret to the grave, for now the 
child is gone, and Laurence is gone, what is the 
use of speaking?’’ 

“But you see that Laurence is not gone!” he 
exclaimed expressively; ‘‘and we will let by- 
gones be bygones instead. I am before both you 
and Mrs. Leach. I told your father last night. 
He took it, on the whole, surprisingly well! I 
have not seen him this morning, though. He 
won’t allude to it at present. Board ship is no 
place for scenes, he says; and I am entirely of 
his opinion; so, my dear, you need not look so 
ghastly. Now, come along on deck. We shall 
soon sight Tarifa. Ah! here is Mr. West at 
last.” 

The music-room was pretty full as the little' 
man came slowly toward the pair, who sat apart 
on a couch at the end of it. He looked unusu- 
ally solemn, and he had discarded his ordinary 
blue bird’s-eye tie for a black one. He avoided 
his daughter’s glance, and fixed his attention on 
her mourning-gown, as he said : 

“Well, how are you to-day, Madeline, my 
love?” 

“I feel better — much better.” 

“That is good news! Then come on deck and 
see the Spanish coast?” 

He. sat next to her — their steamer-chairs placed 
closely side by side — in silence for a long time, 
smoking, and apparently buried in thought; 
then, as he suddenly noticed Wynne’s signet- 
ring on her wedding finger, he leaned forward, 
took her fragile hand in his — it trembled, for he 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


421 


held it long and contemplated it intently — and at 
last released it with surprising gentleness. 

^^Madeline,’’ he said, ‘‘I knoiv you’ve had 
enough trouble. I’m not going to say one word; 
but I’m greatly cut up about what happened — 
last summer;” and Madeline drew her veil over 
her face to hide her streaming tears. 

After they had crossed the notorious Gulf of 
Lyons, Mrs. Leach appeared, with languid airs, 
expecting attention, solicitude, and sympathy. 
Alas! for expectations. What a change was 
here! Mr. West was entirely engrossed with 
Madeline, and was positively curt and gruff (he 
had heard the history of the letter in the bag) ; 
and when at last she found an opportunity of 
talking to him privately, and began with little 
preamble about ‘‘dear Maddie— such a marvel- 
ous sailor — so much better — Getting away from 
some dreadful hold on her — and influence — seems 
to have transformed her into a new creature!” 
Mr. West looked at the speaker keenly. The 
sea-breeze Is searching, and the southern sun 
pitiless. Ten days’ sickness had transformed 
Mrs. Leach into an old creature! She was fifty- 
five or more, with her sunken cheeks, and all 
those hard lines about her mouth and eyes. 
What did they signify? 

“Do I see Mr. Wynne on board?” she asked, 
with a tragic air — “over by the boats? How 
strange, how audacious!” 

“Do you think so? He is Madeline’s husband, 
and a great friend of mine.” 


422 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


Mrs. Leach gasped ! The wind had been taken 
out of her sails. 

‘‘Then ijoit know all about it?’’ 

“Yes, I know all about it,” said Mr. West col 
lectedly. 

“You have not known it for long — not when 
we sailed?” 

“No, not quite as long as you have, Mrs. 
Leach” — looking at her expressively. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, for one thing, that I obtained my 
information through a legitimate channel; that, 
as you are such a victim to the sea, it will be 
only humane to land you at Naples. It would 
be cruel to take you on to Melbourne; and Mad- 
eline has a companion entirely to her taste in 
Laurence Wynne.” 

“And oh, what a tale for London!” she ex- 
claimed with a ghastly sneer. “I am feeling 
the motion a good deal — perhaps you will be kind 
enough to assist me to get below? I find I must, 
lie down.” 

To tell the truth, she had been eompletely 
bowled over — thanks to a strong breeze and a 
strong opponent. 

Mrs. Leach landed at Naples and enjoyed an 
exceedingly pleasant winter in Rome — due to a 
handsome check which she had received from 
Mr. West, nominally as a return for her kind 
interest in his daughter, and really as a golden 
padlock for her lips. 

Mr. West, once in Sydney, contriv^ed to pull a 
good many chestnuts out of the fire, and returned 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


423 


to England as wealthy as ever, purchased the 
old estate of the Wynnes, and restored the half- 
ruined house in a style in keeping with its an- 
cient name. 

Madeline and her husband spend a great deal 
of their time at Rirals Wynne, though their 
headquarters are in London, and some day the 
old home will descend to the old race. The chil- 
dren are beautiful ; another little Harry is the 
picture of the one that is lost, but not forgotten, 
as fresh white wreaths upon a certain grave can 
testify. Mr. Clay, the rector, has seen Mrs. 
Wynne placing them there with her own hands. 
She made no secret of it now, 

‘Ht is the grave,” she explained, ‘^of our eldest 
little boy. I will bring his brother and sister 
here by-and-by.” 

The rector, when he takes strangers round the 
churchyard, and points out the most noticeable 
tombstones, halts for a good while before a cer- 
tain marble cross, and relates the story of a mys- 
terious young couple who visited the grave sepa- 
rately, but who now come together, with other 
children in their train. 

Mr. Laurence Wynne continues to ‘‘rise.” He 
is in Parliament, and a man of such note that 
Mr. West no longer casts a thought on Made- 
line’s lost coronet. Lord Montycute has mar- 
ried a rich widow twenty years older than him- 
self. Lord Tony is happily settled, and Lady 
Tony and Madeline are fast friends. Lady 
Rachel is little Madeline’s godmother. She is 
a pretty child, suflficiently spoiled by her father, 


424 


MARRIED OR SINGLE? 


but ruined by her doting grandpapa. She is an 
imperious little person, but obedient and docile 
with her mother. It is only poor grandpapa 
whose miserably scanty locks she puts into curl 
papers, whom she drives about in a pair of long 
red reins, and whom she rules with a rod of iron. 


THE END. 




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